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lady-pug · 1 day ago

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Lipstick Stamps

Summary: Bob doesn’t seem to think himself deserving of good things, such as a relationship, and you make it your personal mission to prove him wrong, one kiss at a time

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Reynolds x Reader

Word count: 3,4k

Warnings: self-esteem issues and feelings of unworthiness (on Bob's part); spoilers about the ending of Thunderbolts*

Notes: Hey people! I’m back, and this time writing for a new fandom! I’ve been an avid Marvel fan since I was a kid actually I’ve just never gotten around to writing for it before. BUT I watched Thunderbolts* and I, while I thought it would feed into my crush on Bucky and Yelena, I actually ended up falling in love with Bob. I think he deserves all the love in the world and decided to take matters into my own hands. I intend to write more for Bob and also for Bucky (I have a few ideas already) and maybe Yelena.

Thanks @fruityvampslayer for the prompt (also, requests are open, you can send requests and prompts anytime, it is greatly appreciated)!

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

There are no physical descriptions of the reader other than wearing makeup, and it can be read as any gender. Also, when describing the formal attire I tried to keep descriptions to a minimum so you can imagine what the reader is wearing.

Masterlist | Read on AO3

Bob had no idea how he ended up in this situation. He didn’t know what he did to even deserve to be in this situation at all.

No, actually, that was a lie. He knew exactly how he ended up in this situation.

The day at the Watchtower had started out like any other: breakfast early in the morning with you and Alexei, the older man having a hard time keeping his voice at an ‘indoors’ level, as usual. Then a run around the block with Bucky even though Bob hated running as the supersoldier insisted he needed to stay active and in shape. After training with Bucky and Ava, followed by lunch with the whole team prepared by you and Alexei, Bob took a couple of hours to himself, reading a book you had recommended in his room.

During the first few months living in the tower he would often isolate himself in his new room, away from everyone. It was safe, it was known to him. But then, little by little, he started opening up, first to you and Yelena, then to the rest of the team. Now, where first he would lock himself up in his room, he would make an effort to spend more time with each of his teammates, his friends. He would still retire to his room throughout the day, he did enjoy his alone time after all, but instead of locking his door and half dreading, half hoping someone would come looking for him, he would now leave his door slightly ajar, inviting anyone in should they search for him. Most of the time he hoped it would be you.

But then, just as he was about to start preparing everything for his biweekly afternoon tea with you, Yelena and, surprisingly, John, Valentina had come in a rush, her heels clicking against the floor as she gave instructions to Mel about dresses and ties, and called for an emergency meeting.

“What is this all about?” Yelena asked, her arms crossed and annoyance written all over her face.

“Well, the New Avengers have a gala with the investors tonight.” Valentina shrugged, all while Mel still typed away on her phone.

Everyone but Alexei groaned, while Bob fiddled his thumbs nervously.

“Again?” Bucky asked, exasperated.

“What, do you have something better to do on a Tuesday night?” Valentina mocked.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” you answered curtly “It’s movie night.”

Movie night. It started out in the first weeks of everyone living in the Watchtower. You had asked Bob if he wanted to watch a movie with you. Your explanation had been that it was this new horror movie that had just been released, and that you were normally too much of a scaredy-cat to watch it on your own. You were so full of shit and Bob could see right through it, he knew it was just an excuse to get him to join you. And yet he did it anyway. He had been right, as you ended up watching ‘The Lion King 2’ instead of whatever horror flick you had been planning (that is if you hadn’t lied about that as well). The following week you had invited him again, and the next, and on the week after that Yelena asked if she could join. Then Alexei. After a while it became a tradition between the whole team to watch a movie while eating pizza on Tuesday nights.

“Oh, how cute.” Valentina mocked before turning serious once more “It’s non negotiable.”

Everyone started grumbling once more before she cut it off.

“Who do you think pays for all of this?” she gestured around “The maintenance of this place? The equipment you use on your missions? It certainly doesn’t all come from government grants, right Congressmen Barnes?”

Bucky, although still annoyed, looked away sheepishly, as Alexei tried hyping everyone up.

“Come on, it will be fun night!” he practically shouted, much to Yelena’s dismay.

At the end of the day they couldn’t argue with Valentina, especially not after Mel casually mentioned it was an open bar and had free food.

Bob was a little bummed at the change of plans but resigned himself to watching ‘Revenge Of The Sith' alone. Just as he was about to leave the briefing room, his head hung, he felt something tugging on his sleeve.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked, the corner of your lips turning up in a small smirk.

“I-I mean, you guys have to go get ready and all.” he shrugged “I don’t want to get in the way.”

Your smile softened, your fingers trailing down his arm and wrapping around his own.

“You never get in the way, Bob.”

His own lips betrayed him, for he smiled bashfully at you, looking at the floor.

“Why don’t you come with us tonight?” you asked, hopefully. At least Bob hoped you sounded hopeful. God, he was so pathetic.

“I don’t-” he cleared his throat “I mean, I don’t know.”

He knew he wasn’t like the rest of you. He wasn’t a supersoldier, like Bucky, Alexei and John, or could phase through walls like you and Ava. Hells, he could barely throw a punch like Yelena, and he couldn’t even use his powers without risking wiping out half the city. Not until he could get him under control.

“Come on, you heard Alexei, it will be fun!” you playfully elbowed him on the ribs “Besides you’d be saving me from a huge headache. Do you think I want to spend yet another evening rubbing elbows with a bunch of rich old men? Let the Congressmen do the talking this time.”

He tried, he really tried. It wasn’t really his scene anway. But he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you batted your eyelashes at him like that, soft yet cheeky grin on your lips, one hip cocked to the side oh so prettily-

Okay, he quickly shut down that line of thought before he said anything stupid.

But the way your face lit up when he eventually agreed was worth the few hours of him being stuffed in the uncomfortable suit you had requested Mel find for him last minute.

By the time he was ready to go he was feeling kind of anxious, waiting, hoping for you to show up, second guessing your invitation all together. But when you did show up…

You looked… breathtaking was the only word he could use to describe you. Your hair looked fancily put together, and your elegant outfit was so form fitting he had to stop himself from downright ogling at you. And the way that red lipstick suited you, he couldn’t keep his eyes off your mouth. Not in a creepy way, of course. He hoped.

“Don’t you clean up nicely!” you mentioned as you stopped in front of him, fixing up his crooked tie.

He smiled. You always made him feel so safe, so normal.

“You’re one to talk.” he tried joking back to you, but to his own ears he sounded so lame. But it worked, at least to some degree, for you averted your gaze, a small bashful smile spreading across your face.

“So, are you ready to go?” you asked after a moment.

“Yeah.” he nodded, but it was a lie. He was anything but ready. He was so nervous.

And yet… he actually found himself having fun! You stuck by his side the whole night, even after he said you didn’t have to refrain from having a good time for his sake.

“Has it ever occurred to you, Bob, sweetheart,” you smiled, gently “that I actually like spending time with you?”

He couldn’t help the way his cheeks flushed at your words, his heart beating so fast in his chest. He didn’t dare question you again.

At one point in the night, though, some soft, slow music started playing on the speakers and it was like all attendees and their plus ones started flocking to the dancefloor.

After a few beats of you both staring at the people dancing he glanced at you, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Don’t you wanna go dance with someone?” he asked, and for a moment he could swear your face lit up in a hopeful expression before you quickly schooled it back to your neutral look.

“Nah, I’m good. I have two left feet, if you know what I mean.” you chuckled, and he laughed along with you.

He glanced longingly at the dancefloor, all of them couples having fun together.

“What’s on your mind?” he startled, not expecting to find you staring at him still.

“How nice it must be.” he mumbled after a beat “To have someone.”

It was your turn to stare at all the people before turning back to him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” you smiled softly at him, but it felt… off. There was a downturn to your lip that almost resembled a frown “You’ll find someone one day, Bob, I’m sure you will.”

He shook his head, a sad smile growing on his face.

“I’m not sure that’s on the cards for me.”

Your face fell in confusion.

“What do you mean?” you asked, almost as if you were personally insulted by this.

“I mean, I don’t think I deserve something like that, you know. Not after everything.” he sighed, shoulders dropping “And besides who could possibly want someone like-”

He could see the exact moment your face hardened as you took a step towards him, cutting him off mid sentence.

“Someone like what?” you asked, voice low and, dare he say, menacing.

Now he was afraid to say it. You looked mad, and the last thing he had wanted was to upset you. But in Bob’s eyes it was true. He was a loser, he couldn’t even help the team properly as of yet, and he had almost killed everyone including you. He couldn’t possibly fathom how anyone, much less someone as cool and kind and badass like you, could be into him.

“Someone like, you know, me.” he confessed.

And that’s how he ended up here.

Your back had straightened, face cold and unreadable as you reached for his hand and yanked him after you. He started mumbling apology after apology, stuttering profusely as he tried to make sense of where you were going.

As it turned out you pulled him away from the dancefloor and out of the building completely, ditching the rest of the team as you quickly hauled a cab.

“Get in.” you said, a sudden yet gentle tug for him to get in the backseat after you.

Your hand didn’t let go of his hand until you were both out of the car and inside the Watchtower. You dragged him all the way to the residential level, only letting go so you could make a quick stop in your room to grab something he couldn’t quite figure out before you were leading him to his own room. He had half a mind to push the door closed behind him once you both entered, still uneasy about having made you angry even though he didn’t quite know what he did wrong.

“I-I’m so sorry, I-”

You didn’t let him finish, swiftly heading to his bathroom with a short “make yourself comfortable” thrown over your shoulder.

His mind was reeling. What had just happened? He pondered over the events of the evening, trying to sort them out in his head as he toed off his loafers. One moment you two were fine, joking around with one another and then…

He ruined everything, a nagging voice spoke from deep within his mind as he removed his blazer and carefully folded it. He made you angry, forcing you to abandon the gala and bring him to the tower, now you were going to leave him here, and go back there and finally have the fun night you had been promised and…

Just as he was just loosening his tie and popping the collar button open you stormed back in, and before he could get even a word out you lightly shoved him backwards by the shoulders.

“Listen here, Bob.” your voice was low, raspy even. While your makeup was still untouched you had changed into an oversized, comfy looking band tee, and had he not been mortified over having put his foot in his mouth he wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away from you now exposed thighs “I won’t stand by and listen to you talk like that about yourself. I won’t accept it, I won’t allow it.”

Your last words were punctuated by a firm shove, making the back of his knees hit the mattress. He tripped over his own feet, falling on his butt on the bed.

“B-But it’s true.”

A sigh of disappointment left your lips and he wanted to look away, hide in his own shame, but before he could even react you were climbing onto his lap, both legs extended on each side of his torso and hands placed carefully on his shoulders.

“No it isn’t, Bob.” both your face and your tone softened, your hands travelling up to cup his cheeks gently yet firmly, forcing him to keep his eyes on you “I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you, love.”

Somewhere along the way his heart had practically stopped beating altogether. He didn’t know if it was your words or the position you found yourselves in but something made his breath hitch in his chest. Had you not been looking at him so reverently, like he hung all the stars in the sky, he was positive you’d have laughed at him, both his hands up like he was being held at gunpoint, not knowing where to place them, and a deep blush dusting his cheeks.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you.” you smiled softly then, and he felt a shiver run down his spine.

He smiled back at you, but it didn’t match your own. No, his smile was sad, almost like he was pitying you.

“I don’t know if that’s true.” he whispered, not only to you but to himself.

Your eyes shifted, determination shining in them, but it wasn’t hard like before, it was warm and resolute. Then, without looking away from him, you slowly touched your forehead against his.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to convince you otherwise, if you let me.” you spoke softly, your breath fanning against his lips “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk out that door and we can pretend this never happened.”

His entire body was trembling with restraint.

“I don’t deserve it.” he rasped out, scared “I don’t deserve you.”

Once his words registered in your mind you couldn’t hold back any longer, pulling his face towards you. But where he thought your lips would settle over his own, he felt you place a delicate kiss on his right cheek.

“That’s not true, love.” you whispered against his skin.

He wanted to. God, did he want to. But he shook his head, feeling a knot in his throat.

“I don’t know how.” he whimpered.

Ever so slowly you moved to his other cheek, placing yet another warm kiss on his skin.

“Neither do I, to be honest. We’ll learn together.”

His hands settled on your waist then, some of the resistance leaving him. You took this as a sign to keep going and, with a soft pull on his jaw, bowed his head so you could place a peck on his forehead, and another one on the tip of his nose.

“Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

Something in him snapped. Tears brimmed in his eyes as he searched your own, for what he wasn’t sure. A sign that you were lying? You wouldn’t. Reassurance? Perhaps. But he just knew that whatever it is you were offering him, you meant it.

“Please.” he whispered in a broken whine.

All you needed was a single word to unleash all you had been holding back, tightening your hold on his face and moving his head to your liking. Your lips were everywhere, on his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, his chin, his neck, his ears, his temple, his jaw, even his own lips. Anywhere you could reach, gone were the featherlight kisses from before, replaced with fierce yet gentle ones, with enough pressure to leave his skin tingling. It was like you were trying to kiss every bad thought and insecurity out of his system. He knew that you knew it didn’t work like that, but damn if you weren’t going to try.

He felt like he was melting, right then and there on his own bed, his head airy and light and, for once in his life, quiet. His limbs felt heavy, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your waist, hands slipping down to your hips.

Your words weren’t helping his case either. After every caress of your lips on his skin you’d say something that left his heart soaring.

“You are so strong, love. So brave.” he didn’t believe that most days, but the way you said it made him just the tiniest bit inclined to agree.

“You’re such a handsome man. A pretty, pretty boy.” he knew he didn’t hold a candle to the likes of Bucky, but if you were saying it there must be some truth behind it, right?

“So warm. And solid and real. You’re real, Bob.” he didn’t quite know what to make of that but coming from you it must be a compliment.

He didn’t want it to end. Perhaps the world, his world, could be summed up to this moment, right here. He never wanted to leave his room if it meant having you, like this, being in your hold and under your spell forever. Now that he finally had this he didn’t want to let it go. But, he guessed, all good things must come to an end.

“So this is where you kids ran off to!” Alexei’s booming voice sounded from the corridor, startling Bob and making you sigh in annoyance.

The door. In his haste earlier Bob had completely forgotten to close his bedroom door. And now, all the other Thunderbolts were standing in the doorway looking several different degrees of smug.

“Come on guys, let’s leave the lovebirds alone.” Yelena ushered them, not before throwing a wink at Bob, much to his embarrassment.

Just as the last of them disappeared down the hallway and Bob’s shoulders finally relaxed, Walker backtracked and poked his head back on the doorway.

“Oh, by the way, you have something on your face, Bob.” he said, making a circular motion all over his face “Right around here.”

“What?!” Bob squeaked, practically throwing you on the bed as he rushed to the bathroom. There, in the mirror, was his own reflection staring back at him, his entire face and neck covered in red lipstick marks, all in the exact shape of your lips.

“Oh, come on!” he saw you in the mirror running to the door of his bedroom and peering out into the hallway before shouting “Yelena! You promised me this one was transfer proof!”

Bob should be mortified. Don’t get me wrong, he definitely was. But he was also… happy. Overjoyed, in fact. So much so he started giggling in front of the mirror, both from your antics and from his appearance. His giggles turned into hearty chuckles and then into full blown laughter, his whole body shaking from the force of it. You came to check up on him, a small embarrassed smile of your own stretching across your lips, which he noticed were still painted in a now smudged shade of red.

“What’s so funny, huh, mister?” you asked playfully, to which he couldn’t resist holding your chin in his fingers, his thumb rubbing a smear of lipstick from the corner of your mouth and placing a kiss of his own on your lips.

“Thank you.” he breathed it once he pulled away.

You shrugged, holding onto his wrist to keep him from pulling away entirely.

��You deserve it, Bob.”

It was still hard to hear. It made something itch inside him, like it was bubbling to come out and deny it, destroying this little bit of happiness he had forged for himself. He knew it would take a while, a long while, until he actually believed it, and that there would be days when it would be harder to believe you than others, but maybe, just maybe, this could be a start.

“Yeah.” he grinned, feeling like he probably looked like a lovesick puppy “Maybe I do.”

#bob reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds x you #bob reynolds #robert reynolds x you #robert bob reynolds #thunderbolts #thunderbolts fanfic #thunderbolts fic #bob reynolds fic #bob reynolds fanfic

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himewonu · 2 days ago

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STRAWBERRY SCENTED STRINGS ౨ৎ kim mingyu

౨ৎ mingyu loves sweets. what wasn’t sweet, though, was the cellist from his rival band. your aloof and irascible attitude toward his band always left them in a bad mood. somehow, you and mingyu can only get along through your love for desserts.

starring bassist! mingyu x cellist! f reader

word count 16k (thanks 4 betareading soph and alya >_<) | playlist

genre fluff, humour, rivals to lovers (?), band au, suggestive

contains profanities, food, alcohol, petnames, mentions of sex, they makeout once (not really), idk anything abt the bass or cello or being a professional musician, ambiguous ending

from rhin, this was heavily inspired by mingyu shredding the guitar during their clap performance. i’ve been itching to release this since dec 2023 but i have been inconsistent with writing it so i’m leaving it halfway finished!!

please support by reblogging and feedbacks ♡

TRACK_001_SWANSONG

Just as your quartet is finishing the first movement of the piece, you hear a soft guitar riff lingering from the practice room next to yours. It interrupts the practice and causes someone to make a mistake. Given how painfully obvious a cello is compared to any other instrument in the violin family, it was unquestionably yours. They began to glance at each other until they finally turned to face you, who was attempting to reprise the bar—this time, correctly.

Swearing under your breath, you carefully set down your cello, trying not to let your rage get the better of you and throw the instrument across the room. You left the practice room, slamming the door behind you. The other musicians in the corridor noticed your little outburst and walked away when you gave them a stern look.

If there was one thing you hated more than making mistakes, it would be rock music. Whether it was the genre or the people indulging in it, it was the bane of your existence. The hardcore melody and the blaring noise the instruments made, especially when they were all playing at once, were too much for your ears to handle. The genre is what you would call offensive to you.

The people who participated in that genre weren’t any better. The majority of rock bands you’ve encountered were merely conceited and brash rebels. The thought of having your worlds clash was like another war, and you might prefer to switch back to the viola than subject yourself to those monstrous pieces of work.

Since rock bands make up the majority of the bands playing at the festival, your quartet is starting to doubt their ability to perform well. You sharing a stage with them was already hell enough. In fact, you should be intimidating to them rather than afraid of them. They serve only as a distraction from the masterpiece that your quartet is about to unveil.

Half applauded for your quartet's performance, but their enthusiasm wasn’t meeting your expectations. Your quartet played flawlessly with no delay or off-key parts that could show a lack of praise from the audience. They mostly consisted of teenagers who were cheering for rock bands and probably new to your performance, hence why the crowd felt muted. Of course, they only like bands.

When the emcee introduced the following band as you were leaving the stage, the audience was cheering far louder and more enthusiastically than they had for your group even before they had taken the stage. Their height blocked your view as they made their way to the stage, making you promptly move aside since you were in the way.

Cherry Bass. The audience appeared to really enjoy them; some were yelling nonstop, which makes them seem popular. They stood out from the majority of bands in the area for a few reasons. Their concept suited their name—the outfits and height were pointed out.

They are somewhat alike and both formal and informal. Their performance is meticulous, and they remain still rather than circling the stage. Not only are their lyrics poetic, but their music is also non-aggressive and loud. Rather than being a typical song about heartbreak, it's more about friendship and fun.

It’s no wonder the audience likes them.

The way their cherry red leather outfits complemented their physical structure, combined with the lack of awkwardness when staying still and somehow nonchalantly engaging with the audience. Whenever they play their instrument, they give off a cool, edgy vibe and appear more like a bunch of friends who are simply excited to perform in front of an audience than like they are trying to prove they're the greatest band in the world. Despite their lack of professionalism, they give off the impression of having some band experience.

Still, they’re a distraction.

The realization finally dawned on you as the hot air of summer was draining out your energy and killing your ego. "We should go." You uttered. Your group trailed behind you as you made your way out of the alluring scenery before your pride could die.

TRACK_002_ESPRESSO

Mingyu doubts his place in the band. There are some songs where people can barely hear the bass in their extended plays, and he sometimes can’t even hear himself during practices when his bandmates are loud. Whenever he notices that he made a mistake, he doesn’t bother redoing that bar since it’s so quiet that not even the others can hear it.

He mainly relies on the feeling of friction between his fingers and the strings to play along.

During practice, a certain sound caught his attention that was definitely not his bass or any other instrument. Its subtle taps or thuds resonate in his ears. It’s not in the room, and it sounds like it's coming from outside. As they wrap up their practice, Mingyu decides to investigate as he puts his bass down and strolls towards the door. Slowly opening it, he peeks his head out to meet with the sight of movers holding boxes. They drop them inside the room in front of theirs.

“We have new neighbours,” he announces to his bandmates.

“And they’re most likely gonna move out. Everyone hates using that practice room since we’re loud,” Vernon mocks, pulling out the cable from his guitar.

Just like every other neighbour they had, everyone kept moving out due to their infamous noise. They all tried to get them kicked out, but it was impossible since the landlord of Choi’s Music Store and Apartments for Musicians was their leader’s dad. Since then, all he could do was talk his way out of not mentioning that room.

The landlord mentioned how he didn’t recommend renting your room, as the room in front of yours was going to be noisy. But that didn’t stop your quartet from using it; it doubles as a practice room and an apartment, and you all needed to move out of your brother’s basement as a practice room. The only con is that it's downtown.

This was one of those times when your ensemble was willing to be nice to rock bands—except you. You refused to cooperate with them since your excuse was that you didn’t want to see their faces.

Ryuwon had to go build your bed frames and told you to bake muffins for your neighbours, hence why the three of you had to be nice.

“She better be joking when she wants us to bake for them,” you scowled.

“Let’s just do it in her favour. After all, we should let them know they have new neighbours,” the violinist proposed. “I don’t want to deliver, though.”

“Not it,” Yoonhee utters, quickly touching her nose as the other does the same, leaving you with the responsibility.

“What the hell! I didn’t even agree to this!” You grumble as you all head to the kitchen.

Meeting them was a questionable encounter. You urged them that you really didn’t want to give them the muffins, but they were insisting on it to the point where they pushed you out of the apartment, giving you the container of muffins. You were banging on the door, yelling at them to let you in. They didn’t answer, and you just so happened to give in, asking them what you should even say. Their response to you was to just come up with something from the top of your head.

You were finally facing their door, knocking rapidly until someone opened the door. He raised an eyebrow at the sight of you holding muffins in your hands. His tall figure was practically towering over you, making him seem intimidating. But the only intimidating thing between you was your mad expression and how you looked like you didn’t want to be there.

“Hi, not sure if you know, but we’re your new neighbours,” you greet, still retaining the muffins in his face.

He scratches his head. “Uhh, what are the muffins for?”

You didn’t reply right away, as you were trying to come up with an answer. "Think of it more as an advance apology. We practice loudly, so hopefully you and your band can handle that," you sarcastically remark.

He scoffs as he takes the container. "Oh, we’ll be much louder than you,” he brags before shutting the door on you.

You wonder why you would even agree to live next door to a rock band. But he looked awfully familiar to you. How he held onto his bass and the way he was towering over you. The band was undoubtedly one you have seen before, even though the landlord didn’t mention their name.

He takes the lid off and gazes at the freshly baked muffins. “What’s that?” Vernon proceeds to ask Mingyu. “Not for you!” he retaliates. Vernon rolls his eyes and returns his attention to the music sheet, while Mingyu pulls out a muffin and begins to bite into it. He hums in pleasure.

Strawberry banana—his favourite.

Your quartet decided to establish a rivalry with the band next door. It all began two days after you moved in, at five in the morning, when they practiced, more specifically, by clashing their instruments together to aggravate you four.

The following day, you practiced more loudly than you usually would, and you practiced for hours on end until they started banging on your door to beg you to stop. That day, they found it amusing since you were their opposing genre, especially being that quartet they saw at the summer music festival.

Since then, the eight of you have always found a way to piss each other off—everywhere, every day, and every time.

Everyone in your quartet likes to disappear off to their own places when the group isn't practicing, leaving you alone. You’d either be at work or out in public, because there’s absolutely nothing you could possibly do at home except practice, write songs, or bake. You want to ensure that your day is peaceful and that you’re not being disturbed during your alone time. Whenever you see someone from that band approaching you, you usually scare them off with your words, or if you don’t feel like losing your voice, you just give them a death glare.

For someone who’s so graceful, you sure can be frightening.

“Why are you so sour?” A voice utters before you. Lifting your gaze from your journal, you see the man you gave muffins to. You were at a nearby cafe, quietly penning some lyrics for yourself. He puts his coffee down on the table and sits in front of you, attempting to strike up a conversation.

His words cause you to furrow your brows before you snap back. “Excuse me? I didn’t even ask you to sit with me!”

“You sure look like you need someone to sit with,” he mumbles against the rim of his coffee cup.

"Maybe you can't tell, but everyone here knows that I prefer to be by myself, except for you and your stupid ass!" He doesn’t leave; rather, he stays in his seat, still drinking the coffee. You ignore the fact that he isn’t going to leave you alone and glance down at your journal once more. You continue to write a line on the current song you’re working on.

He sets his coffee back on the table and leans in so that his face is just inches from yours. You try to pay attention to the burning sensation that’s growing on your cheeks from the proximity. You’re still writing and not even trying to look at him. He pulls his arm out and reaches in to quickly grab your journal.

“What’s even in here?” He questions, holding it with both hands as he looks at the page of lyrics. “Flash Forward,” he mutters as he reads the title of the song. Before he can take another look, you snatch it back from him and stuff it into your bag. “That’s none of your business,” you retort as you get up from your seat and walk away.

There was nobody home when you returned to the apartment. You run to your bedroom and lie on your bed as you stare at the ceiling. The light was shining on your eyes, making you get up and realize that you still haven’t finished writing the song. You grab your journal out of your bag and open it to the unfinished page.

The moment the tip of your pencil touches the paper, your mind goes blank. Nothing comes to mind for the next few lines. All you can think about is what the man from earlier said about you.

“Sour? What does he know about being sour? I’m anything but sour!” You quietly complain to yourself.

You were writing down exactly what you had said before you even realized it. After continuing to stare at the words, it finally dawned on you. You turned the page to an empty space and began to write a heading.

‘Sour Grapes’

Other than writing lyrics, you like to bake in your free time. You would have been a baker without a doubt if you had not been a musician. Since you were a child, you have always enjoyed baking. Always trying out how to bake different kinds of pastries and other desserts. Your family never brought desserts home, except for birthday cakes, and no one really taught you how.

All you remember is how it all started, when your brother was watching a food channel and the show that was airing was about young bakers. It was kind of annoying to watch them fail at their recipes so often. You recalled remarking that even you, a seven-year-old, could accomplish it because it was so simple. Joshua wanted you to give it a try, but he said it was not easy.

For one thing, he was a little stupid to encourage his younger sister to go into the kitchen and possibly set the house on fire. Either way, you proved him wrong in a way. You followed a recipe that you remembered seeing on the screen. You weren’t precise with the measurements since you eyeballed it. However, the outcomes were better than shown on the show. Joshua seemed to like it and mentioned that you should try baking when you’re much older.

That's how your interest in baking began. You don’t really bake for yourself. Usually, you just serve your friends or family whatever dessert you make. Their constant approval encouraged you to bake more and more.

Here you are, by yourself, in the kitchen. Since it's less disruptive and you get to surprise them when they get home, you actually prefer to bake when no one else is home. On days like these in September, people would be craving autumn-related baked goods. Unlike them, you’ve been craving anything with strawberries lately, and this was going to be one of those times where you bake for yourself.

Baking is the only hobby you have where you don’t have to stress. It’s funny because baking requires you to be meticulous at every step. As long as you have the basics, you just grab everything from the refrigerator and cabinets and toss it all together.

Loaded with all the essentials and a pack of fresh strawberries on the counter, you took your phone out and looked up strawberry dessert recipes. The most common pastry to ever exist, Strawberry Shortcake, appears first, and surprisingly, you’ve never tried to make one.

Doing it on the first try was nothing. You could probably open a bakery knowing how good you are, because it was undoubtedly one of the easiest desserts you’ve ever made. It smells delicious, and by looking at it, it was pleasing.

Since you haven’t shared anything on social media in months, this was your chance to showcase your accomplishments. The majority of your pages are composed of scenery, which makes them visually appealing.

As you opened the camera app, you noticed how the kitchen in the background was ugly to look at. You looked around the apartment for a spot, but nothing seemed to fit the mood. The sky was still blue, and all of a sudden, you recalled that the rooftop had a patio. You put your phone in your pocket and picked up the plate with the cake on it.

You ran into a familiar face as soon as you opened the door and stepped outside, and it was not just your eyes that met him. It just so happens that his bass pickups are now covered in whipped cream, and your strawberry shortcake was lying on the ground when you dropped it. You’re so glad the plate was plastic, because if it were ceramic and shattered, it would’ve made this situation really painful.

Your gaze soon shifted to the guitar, which was now drenched in whipped cream. Your initial reaction, if you were looking at a guitar, was probably to yell at him for running into you. Though slightly different, this scenario is exactly like the one you had in mind.

You would’ve definitely scared him away if his bass had not gotten in the way. If he wasn’t wearing that same black t-shirt he always wears, again, you would’ve scared him off. The scenario can go in a million different directions, but they all come to the same conclusion—you get upset at him. So why is it that pity comes out of your mouth?

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You blurted as you tried wiping off the mess on his bass. Other than opening his eyes wide and staring at you, he remains motionless. He wasn’t sure if he should be angry or sorry too, but he was in full panic mode.

“I-It’s fine!” He huffed, backing up to get your hands away from him. He returned to his apartment, leaving you by yourself in the hallway. You stood there, looking at the mess on the floor and realizing that you just pitied a bassist.

TRACK_003_RUNAWAYBABY

“Enjoy!” You exclaim as you hand a cup of Americano to the customer before they leave. As usual, your quartet ran off. Fortunately, you were working a shift at your part-time job, so you wouldn’t be by yourself this time. Although you don’t see the band on your shift, you always end the day annoyed because of how aggravating your co-workers are.

Being a barista isn’t entirely bad, but you wish you had another music-related job. After college, you thought of pursuing songwriting as a side job, but no agency would hire you, and they weren’t entirely convinced by a music degree either. So you stuck with being a musician with your friends and performing for fancy birthday parties and whatnot. It doesn’t really work in your favour since you can’t entirely write songs for a genre that doesn’t need lyrics, but at least you get to flex that you were the only one out of the four who went to college for music.

Since the customer was the last in line, you turned away when they departed. After hastily adjusting your apron, you turned to face the tall man you have always seen. “Oh, fuck, not you again,” you mutter. You raise an eyebrow before uttering in a sulky tone. “What are you doing here?”

“Good question. What are you doing here?” He retaliates.

“It’s called a job, something I’d doubt you would have.”

He scoffs. “I have a job, and it’s better than your miserable coffee-making job.” You don’t fight back since he’s right; it is miserable, and you would do anything to get you out of there. The only good part is that it pays better than other part-time jobs you worked for, and you work once a week.

“Are you here to waste my time, or are you actually going to order something?” You provoke as you cross your arms and rest them on the counter.

“Got anything cold?”

You tilt your head up, indicating the menu on the screen above you. “Refreshers, iced tea, smoothies, cold brew coffee—we have a ton,” you add. He looks up at the menu, contemplating the choices to pick from.

To be honest, he never came here for a drink to begin with. He found it amusing that you were behind the counter wearing an apron. He entered merely to cause you trouble, particularly in light of the incident; he’ll make sure that this isn’t the last time you see him. An arrogant expression appeared on his face as one of the menu's distinctive images highlighted a specialty.

“I’ll have a medium strawberry refresher, pretty girl,” he decides, putting a lot of emphasis on the fruit and making your eye twitch as the pet name rolls off his tongue. When you nod and inquire if he needs anything more, he simply shakes his head and makes the payment. Making his drink was fairly simple; all you had to do was fill a cup with ice, then add ginger ale and strawberry syrup, and finally garnish with a fresh strawberry slice.

You gave him the drink and thought he would at least walk out of the cafe, much less with you. With the counter separating you both, he remained exactly where he was—in front of you. He takes a sip of the beverage and stares at you. He’s testing your patience, and it’s infuriating you, but you’re not willing to give in. The tension relaxed when he spoke up.

“So when do you plan on paying for my pickup replacement?” He asks, swirling the drink. He confused you for a moment because he didn’t provide any context, but based on the keywords he used, he implied that you owed him for damaging his bass.

“How much do they cost? Fifty dollars?”

"Double," he corrects, smiling from ear to ear.

You shudder at his response. “Don’t you have another bass for emergencies?”

“Don’t you have another cello?”

“Right… We can go to the bank after my shift.”

“Which is in…?”

You check the clock on the monitor. It won’t take you that long for him to wait. "In half an hour, but I have to clean up, so I guess around forty minutes?"

He nods and heads over to an empty table near the entrance of the building. He waits by scrolling through his phone, checking unanswered texts, and stalking accounts on social media. It wasn’t long before he began to doze off, only to be jolted awake by a nudge. He raises his head and rubs his eyes, looking at you, who is already out of uniform and waiting for him.

“So do you still want that replacement or not?” You ask after vigorously tapping his shoulder. He shifts his gaze to the table, where the ice in his refresher has completely melted and his phone has already reached twenty percent. Has he been asleep for so long? He returns your gaze and immediately stands up, pushing the chair into place.

“Hell yeah, I do!” he exclaims. He exits the cafe while you trail behind. Just as he turns in the direction of where he parked his car and heads over there, you turn the opposite way. He looks back and notices you walking away from him. “Where are you going?” he yells. You pause in your steps and turn around.

“The train station?” You answer, puzzled by his question.

“And let you sit between sweaty middle-aged men on the way? No way, pretty girl!”

You grumbled at his response and began walking toward him. “I’ll stay with you if you stop calling me that!” you protest.

He opens the passenger door and motions for you to enter the car, which you do after slapping his hand away. He gets in the car and fastens his seatbelt before chuckling. He moves his hand to the side and presses a button, followed by a clicking noise.

"I can’t make any promises," he smirks, placing one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding the keys as he starts the car.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," you mutter, buckling your seatbelt as he begins driving. He remained silent for the first few minutes of the drive, with the music filling the void between you two.

"You know, I just realized we don’t know each other's names, and this is the fourth time I’ve run into you," he remarks, quickly shifting his gaze to you and back to the road. You’re staring into nowhere at the window as your fingers tap your thigh to the rhythm of the song. “It’s my band’s song,” he pointed out, causing your fingers to stop going along.

“You like to run your mouth, don’t you?” You scoffed as you turned your head to look at him.

“If you tell me your name, I’ll be quiet,” he bargained.

“Why would I tell you that?”

He hummed. “So I can sabotage your quartet and blame the conceited cellist.”

“Glad to know I’m not the only one who wants to ruin their opponent’s image.”

Following that, you both remain completely silent. He silently questions why you’re not saying anything like he had expected. “Aren’t you gonna ask for my name in return?” He asks.

“Why would I want to know your name?”

“‘Cause I’m sexy and rich, and if everyone heard my name come out of your mouth, society would shake.”

“What an exaggerated way to say, ‘I’m better than you if you knew my name.’”

“I wouldn’t say better, but I am cooler.”

"And annoying," you mumble, causing him to quickly turn his head to you and raise an eyebrow before returning his attention to the road.

"The offer is still open," he adds.

You let out a heavy sigh. “(Name).”

When you finally arrive at the parking lot, he parks in front of the bank, and the silence lingers. You step out of the car without uttering a word, feeling the breeze of the air hitting your face. His eyes follow your figure as the car door slams shut, the sound resonating in the quiet atmosphere. He watches you enter the bank, the neon sign flickering and dancing to the beat of your steps.

Your name echoes in his head like a melody. It’s a perfect name for a cellist. The music still plays, and his fingers tap on the steering wheel to the rhythm. The door of the bank swings as you come back running to the car with a small stack of cash clutched in your hand. Without exchanging a glance, you shove the money into his hand. You fastened your seatbelt and gestured to him to start the car.

He turns the keys and starts driving back to the practice building, which was only a few minutes away. You closed your eyes and sat a bit too comfortably in the seat. You listen to the music. Is this really his band’s song?

It was too good to be true; it’s too sensual to be a song from a rock band. You didn’t even notice you were slowly bobbing your head until he mentioned it, making you scowl and sit up straight. Before you know it, the car comes to a halt, and you open your eyes to the parking lot of the studio.

You got out, and he trailed behind, catching up to you at the back entrance. You enter the elevator and press the button to go to the floor you both were going to. He plays with the hem of his jacket as he watches the numbers go up, his gaze shifting to you, then back to the numbers.

The door opens to the corridor of your floor, and you both walk out. You tried walking faster so you could quickly leave him in the hallway, but he tries to make small talk with you when you reach your apartment’s door.

“By the way, pretty girl,” he speaks up as you hastily rummage through your bag for your keys. “If you wanna sabotage my career as well,” You finally found your keys, looked for the key to your apartment, and stuck the key into the lock. “It’s Kim Mingyu,” he finishes his sentence as you open the door, entering the apartment and slamming it shut to indicate that you don’t want his name.

You ran to your room and dropped your bag by the door. You went to your desk and took out your journal from the drawer. You flipped to the incomplete page of your current song. You still have yet to finish the other one from two weeks ago, but this song was simply an excuse to rant about that stupid ass Mingyu.

As you try to think of a few lines for the song, you mutter his name several times. You jot them down, take out an empty sticky note that is lying on your table, and adhere it to the page.

You began writing down the recipe for that strawberry shortcake you made last week, and for some reason, you even drew a doodle of the cake in the corner. You chuckle at the paper, realizing that the sticky note had strawberries on it, but the title contained grapes.

You just seem to be drawn to fruits.

The following week, Mingyu found a way to always be with you, and you were just quick to assume it was a part of his band’s way to annoy you all.

On Monday, he came to your door with a broom in his hand and the other gripping your forearm. He was practically begging you to let him into your apartment. When you turned him down, he urged you to kill the cockroach in his apartment as you tried to push him away. You refused to believe someone giant like him was afraid of something so small.

On Tuesday, he saw you use the display cello from the music store he works at. He went up to you and had the audacity to ask you why you weren’t using your cello. Apparently, when your quartet wanted to practice, the minute your bows touched your instruments, the strings suddenly broke. Mingyu admits it was his band’s doing, which left you confused since, one, how the hell did they break into your apartment, and two, when did they do this? Not only did you land some free strings, but you also landed a punch on his stomach.

On Wednesday, he followed you around the building. The only time he didn’t was when you were in your apartment. You kept telling him to go away, but he insisted you tell him that strawberry banana recipe from three weeks ago. In the end, you never told him the actual recipe, only telling him to make a muffin batter and add the fruits.

On Thursday, it wasn’t intentional. You happened to run into him at the grocery store. He needed butter, and you needed whipping cream, so it was a coincidence to meet in the dairy section. Like the friendly man he was, he tried conversing with you, but you were trying to ignore him by making your way to the yogurts.

He kept eyeing the overripe bananas in your basket and attempted to convince you to give them to him. Apparently all the other bananas in the aisle were unripe or ripe, and he wanted to copy your strawberry banana muffins. You told him that he could use ripe ones and it would still taste the same, but he insisted that he preferred it sweeter when using overripe ones. So you two had to fight for the bananas. Or, in other words, he stole them from your basket.

On Friday, it was a much more peaceful day for you. No quartet, no shift, no chores, and most importantly, no Kim Mingyu to pester you around. You spent most of the day writing songs. You were able to finish the song you’ve been wanting to finish since three weeks ago and start a new one—still leaving Sour Grapes untouched.

It was around eleven in the evening when you stopped writing since Ryuwon texted you that her package had arrived. When you left the apartment, you happened to bump into Mingyu, who looked dishevelled and was close to letting go of his grip on the handle of the case of his bass. Although he was exhausted, he still wanted to talk to you.

On your way down, he followed you and mentioned how his band was unfortunate to have two gigs in one day. In the morning, their first gig was at a folk festival, and they played for five hours straight with a fifteen-minute break in between. Their other gig was at a bar, and the people there seemed to enjoy it more than the audience at the festival.

It was weird how he was tired. Despite hating rock bands, you know well enough that bass players are equivalent to violists. It was either the fact that he spent the whole day playing the bass or he’s simply exaggerating. Whatever the case was, it was Mingyu anyway, so there was no reason to be perplexed about him.

Saturday is your usual weekly group practice, but due to Ryuwon’s and the violinist’s instruments being broken, you all agreed to push it to tomorrow. As the two went to visit a specialist for reparations. you spent that day isolated in your room until Yoonhee called you to say that there was someone waiting for you at the door. Her brows were furrowed, and she really emphasized “someone.”

The door was closed rather than open, and Yoonhee stood by the door as she was anticipating for you to open it. When you opened it, Mingyu unexpectedly showed up at your door, beaming and waving.

You groaned, and Yoonhee whispered in your ear along the lines of asking if you and the bassist were friends. You were quick to reply and retorted that you two were never friends in the first place, and he was just trying to seek attention from you.

“What do you want?” You asked in a careless demeanour as Yoonhee left you two alone.

“Can’t I see my amazing best friend in the whole wide world?” He responds as he leans against the doorframe and gazes at you with what seem to be puppy eyes.

“I don’t recall being your friend. Go away,” you say, closing the door on him before he stops it by putting his hand in between.

“Wait, let me take you somewhere. Cat cafe, arcade, music store, you name it.”

You silently judged him with your eyes. “Me? Go out with you? Never in a million years! I’d rather jump off a bridge than be stuck in a room with some hot and arrogant bassist!”

He pouted at your words, but his eyes started to light up, and he slowly started smirking. “You just called me hot,” he teases.

“I never said it like that,” you retaliate.

“You think I’m hot!”

“Not! Stop twisting my words!” Those were the last words you yelled before shutting the door on him. He kept knocking on the door as you went back to your room. You can hear your roommates complain, and the noise eventually stops.

You spent Sunday practicing with your quartet. The two were able to get their instruments repaired, and you four sounded perfect, like always. Despite preferring to be alone all the time, you always liked playing with others rather than by yourself—although you never admit it when someone brings it up.

From playing with your grandparents to joining your high school’s orchestra to being a cellist in a quartet, you were always with someone when playing—except when composing your songs by yourself. Even when your cello didn’t have strings that one fateful week, someone from a rock band you despise was with you.

TRACK_004_FALLINGFORYA

‘Don’t usually swoon but I’m over the moon.’

That sentence was a line from the very first song you wrote when you were still in high school. The line was originally from a poetry assignment for English class back in your first year, and it has stuck with you ever since.

It was so simple yet so inspirational and relatable, and it perfectly described your love life. You remember writing that line, thinking about your first crush, who was a bassist from a boy band established by other students from the performing arts department. You weren’t the type to have crushes, so it was a new feeling.

He caught your eye when he was leaving the performing arts department as you were about to enter. You never knew his name or what grade he was in, only knowing his band was called Cerise.

You labelled him as a hallway crush since you never shared any classes, and you only ever saw him in the music room or at events the student council would hold. You easily got over him when you joined your school’s orchestra and choir ensemble, since those two were your priorities. That was also when you started to grasp the idea of rivals being a distraction.

Thinking about that one song makes you realize that the majority of the songs you write are about love. You don’t know where you get the motivation to write those since you’re not much of a romance fanatic, but you’ve definitely written a lot. You have a total of sixteen songs written. The first four were simply poems, but you began putting music notes on the others.

You like to write anywhere since it gives you inspiration, and in every song you finish, you add melodies and adjust them if there are too many or too few words in a line. You first hum out a melody, then use a piano your roommates have on display in the living room, and use your cello afterwards.

You’re currently trying out your recent song on the cello. Your fingers are starting to feel sore from moving the bow a lot. The melody is too upbeat for your liking, and it’s not the usual mellow or melancholic songs you’d write.

Singing it sounds right, but playing it with the cello sounds off; it might just be better off with the piano or some other instrument.

You close your journal and quickly put your cello back in the case. You take a deep breath as you lean down in your chair. You’re not the type to give up, but the song is making you doubt your skills. You get up to grab your journal from the stand and take your purse lying on the floor.

You shoved the book in as you left your room to head to the door. Quickly locking the door, you went down the hallway to go to the elevator. To be honest, you have no idea where to go; you're just hoping there’s a place out there to solve your small problem.

As soon as the elevator doors close, they open again, revealing a smiley face you’d recognize anywhere. “Where are you headed now, pretty?” Mingyu asks, making you scowl even more at that stupid-ass nickname he calls you.

“I don’t know; maybe away from you,” you say, pressing the button that leads to the lobby.

"Ouch, it looks like someone pissed in your cereal today. Not surprised, though, since you’re always salty,” he jokes, earning him a hard slap on the shoulder from you.

“Last time it was sour, and now it’s salty; what’s next? Sweet?”

He cackles, “You wish.”

The door opens, and the two of you step out. He heads over to the exit, and you couldn’t believe that your steps are following his. “Bassist!” You yell out, causing him to stop walking and turn his head.

“It’s Mingyu,” he corrected.

“Whatever. Are you going anywhere?”

“I have a gig in twenty minutes at a resort. Wanna come?”

“Nevermind, I heard ‘gig,’ and my ears turned off.”

“I’m not bad at the bass, trust me. I’m pretty hot when I play.”

“Even worse,” you turn away and walk back to the elevator. “Break a leg—literally, bass boy.”

“I’ll treat you to dessert if you come!” He yells out, making you leave the elevator to face him again. Dessert is tempting; then again, you have to watch his show—unless you don’t but still eat. Running away with the plate might be a better idea; what’s the worst that can happen?

“Fine, but only if it’s before your show. And I’ll only be there until I finish the dessert. I’ll call my friend to pick me up,” you sigh before he takes your hand and brings you to his car.

When he mentioned a resort, you assumed it would be some small resort by a lake, not the most luxurious resort in the city by the beach. It pays a lot, and he’ll be playing for tons of people, not to mention rich tourists.

Your mouth is agape at the sight of the massive resort when you two stand in front of the entrance. You see his friends setting up through the glass door before walking in. His bass is on display next to his band, and it piques a thought.

“Why didn’t you go with your band for rehearsal?”

“I was recovering from a hangover. I can rehearse the whole setlist within five minutes.”

“Wow. Alcoholic much?” You joked. He didn’t deny it, but all he did was change the topic to the dessert he promised. He left for a few minutes and unexpectedly came back with a cart of plated desserts. He rolls the cart in front of you, showing you all the options.

Key lime pie, apple rhubarb pie, chocolate-covered strawberries, peach cake, matcha French macarons, caramelized banana pudding, lemon galette, grape yogurt tart—there were too many to name. This might interrupt your plan. You looked at the cart, then at Mingyu, then back at the cart. It looks good, it smells delicious, and it might taste amazing. Baked goods may be your weakness, but the mastermind behind this is your biggest enemy. Thinking about it is making you suddenly wish you didn’t agree in the first place.

But you’re smarter than this. If you can bake at the age of seven without parental supervision, you can get your way out of this. Maybe you can eat three plates of dessert, then call it a day. Though that wouldn’t work since he expects you to bring the rest home. Or you could pretend to eat it all and throw it away, but food waste is so careless.

“I’m suddenly not craving carbs. I’m more thirsty than I am hungry,” you mention, smiling to mask your lie. “I’ll have water, then I’ll be out of here.”

He stares at you with confusion. Carbs? More thirsty? Water? You’re just spitting nonsense at this point. First it was spilling whipped cream on his bass, then you kept calling him random names, and now you want to leave five minutes after arriving—he thinks you’re more eccentric than he is. “How about staying for just one song?”

“Hell no.”

“C’mon, it’s not that bad.” It’s very bad. Detrimental, you may say. You know it’s vile; your quartet knows; heck, his past neighbours experienced how atrocious it was.

“It’s terrible.”

“Another one of your lies; you just love lying, don’t you?” He teases. His words remind you that you don’t remember lying to him at all.

“I’m an honest person.”

“And what about that time you were enjoying my band’s song?”

“It was an honest mistake; I didn’t know you guys knew how to make indie rock songs.”

“We’re literally an indie rock band.”

This small argument is getting you nowhere out of this building. All you want to do is perfect your song with a better instrument, something that isn’t a part of the violin family, and that might just hurt your pride.

“I’ll do anything for you to stay for just one song.” His words finally hit your head, connecting the dots—and this might hurt your pride even more.

“Do you know how to play the guitar?” You ask. You came up with an idea while thinking about your song. Never in your life would you think of someone like Mingyu helping you, but it’s your only hope. You could give up on the song, yet knowing you, you’d rather give in than give up.

“Is that even a question? Of course I can.” In less than three seconds after he responded, Mingyu suddenly found it weird how you would ask a question like that. Even though he met you a month ago, he knows well enough that a word about rock would never come out of your mouth unless you were talking shit about it.

“What’s on your mind, pretty one?” He asks, and that already has you thinking about the other option, giving up instead.

“If I stay for one song, will you help me with something?” Mingyu is already beaming from ear to ear when he hears your answer. Before he can agree and ask you about your favour, his bandmate calls him to start the gig, leaving you without a word. His supposed five-minute setlist rehearsal has already passed due to talking with you. He’ll be fine though; he’s a bassist after all.

Now you don’t know if he agreed or not, so now you’re not sure if you should speak up to your word or not. You sit down on a stool by the bar, which is close to the band. The rich guests were already interested when they introduced themselves. Seungcheol on drums, Vernon and Wonwoo on guitar, and last but not least, the man himself, Mingyu on bass. They started off with a song, which, ironically, was the song Mingyu was mentioning earlier—the one you’re quite familiar with and their only song you know.

Every time Mingyu told you he was good at the bass, you never believed him since bassists barely did anything. Now, after seeing it with your own two eyes, he’s way better than what you awfully expected. Despite not rehearsing right when he arrived, his bass slaps are hella impressive.

The way his fingers move a lot on the neck and how his eyes are so focused on people instead of his instrument. It’s alluring; it’s distracting; why does it feel like you’ve seen this before? The audience cheers, and you can see his smile widening. When the guitarist begins his solo, Mingyu averts his gaze from the others to you, tilting his head in a way of asking for commendation. You roll your eyes and ignore him by turning to face the bartender, who was watching as well.

By the time they finished the song, everyone applauded. You turned to look at them again, and the lead guitarist’s action caught your eye. He was shyly waving at someone in the audience, and as you averted your eyes to see who he was waving at, you couldn’t believe who waved back. While the band was asking people for song requests, you got up from your seat and moved closer to the person.

When the next song began, you nudged her as she looked at you with fear in her eyes. “What are you doing here?” The violinist asks.

You glanced at the band, then returned your gaze to her. “I should be asking you the same. Are you seeing the guitarist behind our back?”

“No! We’re just friends.” She was swift to deny, but her voice was strained.

“Friends? Do you realize that you, being friends with him, are putting our music in a dangerous position?”

“You say that as if you don’t do the same!”

“It’s different! I don’t want to be the bassist’s friend, yet you’re willing to be friends with the enemy.” The frustration rose between you two. It’s leading you to so many thoughts about her and the quartet.

You were quick to end the argument by calling Yoonhee to come pick you two up. By the time she arrived, she was confused as to why the two of you were at a resort, but she easily read the room that something bad had happened. The car ride back to the studio was extremely silent, with no music playing on the radio and the middle seat separating you and the violinist.

Yoonhee overreacted when you brought up the fact that the violinist and the guitarist from the band are friends. She began jabbering about how disappointed and mad Ryuwon would be if she found out—and everyone knows how terrifying it can get when the leader is mad.

The violinist fought back and called it hypocritical because it wasn’t fair how they let it slide when the bassist talked to you. “We talked about this before; he’s only there to pester and sabotage me, while you and that guitarist have some sort of friendship,” you remarked earlier. “You know he’s an enemy.”

After Yoonhee parked in front of the studio, the violinist left the car before the argument could get any worse, slamming her door as you two watched her enter the building alone. That was the first time you ever saw her explode.

The following week, you eventually apologized for scolding her about it and mentioned that you were only worried for her as a musician rather than as a friend, because if your non-cellist persona was aware of what was going on between them, you wouldn’t give a damn if she had a thing for him. The three of you acted as if that day never happened, not even telling Ryuwon about it. The violinist was a lot busier music-wise than the rest of you since she got invited to perform a concerto at her instructor’s birthday, making her practice a piece non-stop two weeks prior. So none of you practiced for those two weeks.

You had nothing to do at home since, one, in order to finish your current song, you needed to use your cello, and two, if you were to bake, it would be disruptive. So, you simply went out all the time to see if you could do anything and hopefully get inspiration to write new songs.

Those times may have been unlucky for you because no matter where you went, the stupid bassist would always be there. Each time you saw him, it was always the same: he would go up to you and make small talk, would clown you all the time, and at the end of the day, you would find yourself writing a few lines for ‘Sour Grapes.’

The first time he encountered you was at a music store. Not the store in the studios, but a studio that’s at the opposite end of the city. You both stared at each other in bewilderment, him wondering why you’re here and how you should be asking the same since he clearly works at one. He brought up that you left the resort early, and you simply told him important matters came up.

“You didn’t get to eat the desserts I gave you,” he pouts. “I had to give them all away to new fans.”

“What a bummer,” you sarcastically remark.

“You should do that all the time when I have gigs.”

“Keep dreaming, Bubble Bass,” you say, walking away from him, but he keeps following you.

“When will you start calling me by my actual name?” He asks while looking through vinyls of classical composers. Disgust grows on his face with each vinyl cover he looks at. Seriously, he doesn’t understand how one can only listen to classical music.

“I could say the same. It’s always ‘pretty girl’ but never (Name).”

“But you are pretty.”

“Go home, weirdo.”

Little did you know that you went home before him and slept for twelve hours straight. By the time you woke up, it was already four in the morning. That sleep was probably the best you’ve ever slept in your entire life. Your hand reached for your journal that was lying on the nightstand, and you didn’t think you’d ever write another line.

‘I’m the only one who’s going to get hurt.’

Mingyu heard of the grand opening of a new cafe that was a block away from the studio; he had a feeling you were going. So there he stood by the corner of the building, waiting in line. He didn’t think there would be such a long line, but what did he expect? Everyone just loves coffee.

He’s suddenly thanking his genes for his height when he tiptoed to look at the front of the line. He instantly recognizes you, who was entering with a group of friends. He steps back down and rethinks. Since when did you have friends, and how the hell were you earlier than him? The line was moving, but he only had to take two steps. He’s going to be here forever.

Around twenty minutes later, Mingyu finally entered the cafe. He scanned around; the place was minimal and the decor was cute, something you definitely like.

When you saw him walk in, you were quick to hide your face by turning your head to face one of your friends and whispering in her ear. You mentioned the ‘don’t look’ code, but you knew that never works and looked at Mingyu. Her eyes moved a lot from her cup of coffee to him to your eyes and back at her coffee. The more her eyes were on him, it clicked in her head why he looked so familiar.

She turns her head to whisper back in your ear, your face still away from his direction. “Wasn’t he your hallway crush from high school?” She questioned before you lightly pushed her away from the idea. You forgot how your hallway crush looked since you last saw him years ago, but there was no way he was Mingyu. He was hotter and more talented than the latter.

But the idea still struck you. Him? Sure, there were some similarities, like being the bassist of a band and being super tall, but that’s mostly all bassists you’ve encountered. Your friend is just tripping. Or maybe you don’t want to admit that it could be him. You take a quick glance at him, who was by the counter ordering, and the more you look, you can’t help but think that he might be the bassist you wrote a song about.

‘It’s bittersweet that I don’t wanna taste.’

Two weeks have passed, and you’re here sitting in Yoonhee’s car next to the violinist, adjusting her necklace for her. The four of you are on your way to drop her off at the birthday party before the rest of you go to a nightclub. You all agreed that while she was at her instructor’s party, you’d be at the club until she called to go home.

There were a few rules Ryuwon established, such as if Yoonhee was drunk, either you or she would drive, and the club had to be near where the violinist would be in case something happened. Luckily, after you dropped off the violinist, you were able to find a club that was two blocks away from the banquet.

“Wanna bet who’s gonna get hit on first?” Yoonhee asked as you three were heading to the entrance of the club.

“Hmmm, Ryu, for sure, her back is showing,” you say, poking her revealing back.

"Yeah, and I’ll tell them three hundred ways to go get lasik because they clearly can’t see the ring on my finger,” Ryuwon provoked. “If they aren’t actually blind, it’s either you two.”

“(Name) would be the last to go home with a guy because she hates men,” Yoonhee mentions.

After you finally go in, Ryuwon speaks up. “Nah, (Name) doesn’t hate men; she’s loyal. And besides, we all know she has a thing for men who play bass, whether it’s someone that plays double bass or bass guitar, mainly bass guitar—which, yuck, by the way!”

“I do not! Everyone knows I hate bassists, especially if they’re men,” you retort.

“Says the one who used to like one back in grade nine.”

“And has a bassist head over heels for her!” Yoonhee adds.

“Speak of the devils,” you mutter when you spot the band sitting by the bar with the bespectacled guitarist missing in the picture. Out of all places and times, why do they have to be here?

As you looked by your side, the two had already run off, and you swore you were going to kill them if you saw them. You’re all alone, and there’s a fifty percent chance you might run into Mingyu. Maybe if you avoid him for the night, you won’t have to talk to him; just pray he doesn’t approach you.

You sat on the end of a couch and spotted Yoonhee in the crowd. Just as you were about to go up to her, an aggravating and well-recognized voice stopped you from getting up.

“The club is the last place I thought I’d ever see you,” Mingyu brought up, who was standing next to the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. “What are you even doing here?”

“My friend is performing at a birthday party, so the three of us agreed we’d go clubbing while she’s busy.”

“That’s ironic; so is mine. My friend’s dad’s birthday is today, and his dad is a violin teacher. Who knows, they could be attending the same one.”

Your mind trails back to the day you found out she and the guitarist were friends. “I found out they’ve been seeing each other.”

“That’s odd; Wonwoo was never the romantic type. Is that why he’s always gone?” Now it’s really convincing that the violinist and he have connections. She mentioned his name once in a conversation, but no one bothered asking who he was.

“While you’re here, want a drink?” He asks.

“Not much of a drinker, but sure.”

You both head to the bar, and as you sit on the stool, Mingyu gives cocktail recommendations. He suggests a lot that you’ve heard of, like Margarita and Mojito, but never tried since you only ever drink once every two or three months. He mentions one that catches your attention, and you immediately ask for that one.

Strawberry Daiquiri.

While waiting for your drink, Mingyu comments that it’s his personal favourite, mainly because it’s strawberry-flavoured. That made you realize he likes a lot of things strawberry-related, like you. The muffins, the refresher, fighting over a pack of strawberries, and the daiquiri—your love for the fruit is the only thing you two have in common.

Surprisingly, he’s still talking to you despite not saying anything but nodding. You’re listening, and for some reason, you’re glad you have company. The bartender places the drink on the counter, and Mingyu eagerly watches you hold it. You brought the brim to your lips, and the first sip was strong. It tasted more delectable than you expected, and you were quick to down half the glass.

You feel bad for keeping the conversation one-sided, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. It kept going, and before you knew it, your drink was already finished. You asked for another one, and this time the conversation was mutual. You two were on the topic of music, and you got to know a little bit about him from his implications.

From what he mentions, his band has been going on since high school, and he once injured his arm so much that his little sister had to replace him for a while. He was never serious about music and played for fun. You remember earlier that he knew how to play the guitar, and apparently, he used to be a guitarist until he learned that the bass was much easier. He mentioned the school he went to, and that information alone confirms he was the bassist you had a crush on.

Your words were starting to slur, and you don’t know how you ended up confessing that you went to school with him—still trying not to mention that he was the reason why you started writing songs. You finished your second drink quicker than your first one and laid your head on the counter before asking for a third. While drinking your third one, the words coming out of your mouth are foreign to you. When you tried getting up from your seat, you almost stumbled, but Mingyu was lucky enough to catch you, his hand on your waist.

“You know if I was sober right now, I’d punch you for holding me like this,” you mumble. He doesn’t say anything in return. Your faces are close, and his lips are practically hovering over yours.

He leans in more to your ear and whispers. “I’d like to see you try.”

After that, the rest of the night was a blur, only remembering how his other hand held the back of your neck, your back pressed against the cold wall, and your fingers brushing against his soft hair.

TRACK_005_KISSYOU

Jihyo opened the front door to the sight of you standing there, holding your cello and a few cardboard boxes lying on the porch. She looks like she just woke up with bedhead, with a blanket covering her upper body. She rubs her eyes as she tilts her head as to why you’re on her doorstep, and then she remembers. “You told me it was next week!” she yells.

“Yeah, I told you that last week!”

The band practiced late at night often, and it started to piss your quartet off and ruin everyone’s rest, so you all decided to move out. The agreement stayed the same: every Saturday, group practice in your brother’s basement. Ryuwon rented a small condominium, while the violinist and Yoonhee moved in with their group of friends. As for you, you decided to be housemates with your cousin Jihyo since the only payment she accepts is your offering to pay for groceries and the bill for fine dining. You’re grateful to have Jihyo because, without her, you might be living in Joshua’s basement again.

She pushes each box inside the house with her foot. As unfazed as she is when pushing it, it’s lighter than she thought it would be. Knowing you, when it comes to packing, you pack lightly, which is why on flights abroad, some of your friends would add their own personal belongings to your luggage because ‘there’s a lot of space.’

Jihyo led you to your room, which was still empty, as she had planned on decorating it tomorrow if she knew you were coming this week. Still, as long as you had a bed and a desk, it was fine. You were quick to drop your cello and lie down on your new bed. If there was something that you were glad to know, it was that Jihyo’s parents owned a mattress store, and their mattresses were known to be the softest in the city. It was like resting on a cloud, and you don’t think you could ever get up after this.

“Don’t think that you can take a break; you have some unpacking to do,” she reminds you, taking a pillow and throwing it against you. Luckily for you, the only belongings in the boxes are clothes and other necessities like skincare and your unhealthy collection of fruit-themed hair clips.

She opens a box, and it turns out to be said collection, and only that, in the box. “Damn girl, I thought you stopped collecting in grade eleven.”

“I did, but I started collecting again after I saw a cute set when I went to France, which was not too long ago,” you say, sliding off the bed.

"Well, I can’t blame you; it’s not a bad addiction.” Jihyo puts the collection aside and helps you by unpacking more boxes with you. After several boxes were unpacked and your belongings kept tidied away, it was already past four in the afternoon. Jihyo went to cook dinner, which left you with nothing to do. You could either A: stay in bed on your phone until dinner or B: roam around the area. The first option might be better.

The minute you lay back on your new bed, Jihyo calls your name out, then proceeds to mention you getting the mail outside for her. Damn, Jihyo really doesn’t want you resting in her house. You head out the front door to her mailbox. As you pick up all the mail, you look through the letters and offers that were sent to her. A letter from the bank, a few coupons from fast food chains, and a letter that was supposed to be sent to the house next door to Jihyo. You quickly made your way to her neighbour’s house to drop off the letter in their mailbox, but by the time you turned around to leave their porch, a living nightmare froze at their gates, holding eye contact with you.

“Long time no see?” Mingyu comments but is perplexed by the sight of you. ‘Long time no see,’ as in the last time he ever saw you was the night you went clubbing, and that will be the last time you’ll ever go to a club. Ever since that night, you started avoiding Mingyu because, to be honest, you didn’t really know what actually happened that night between you two. You were scared of what he was going to say, like mentioning the fact that you probably made out with him—which you’re not too sure if you actually did.

Luckily, when Ryuwon brought up moving, you were quick to agree, mainly because this was a chance to escape Mingyu’s clutches. The reason why you specifically asked Jihyo to be her housemate was due to the fact that she lived in the suburbs, which is far from the music plaza. So how the hell did you encounter Mingyu at your secret hideout place that was half an hour away from his place?

“What are you doing here now?!” you complained.

“I live here? What are you doing in front of my house?” Live. You. His house. He’s your neighbour again? And just as you thought you could escape, he has another place to stay that just has to be next to yours again. Seriously, what’s up with rich boys and having houses everywhere?

“Your mail went into my mailbox; I just didn’t think it was your mail.” You clarified, stepping down from his porch. You didn’t think too much about the letter when you saw the owner’s last name. ‘Kim’ is a typical last name, and it could’ve been anyone. Unfortunately, that ‘Kim’ was related to Kim Mingyu. Mingyu looks to his left, looking at the house you were currently living in.

“You moved out? Is that why your apartment was suddenly quiet?” He asks. Out of nowhere, your quartet’s apartment was dead silent. He noticed how no one left or entered, and he never saw you or your members around the plaza. And now that he thinks about it, he never saw you around the area. You weren’t sitting at a usual café or looking for CDs in the music store. He even went to the café you worked at in hopes he'd find you working, but you weren’t there behind the counter.

“Yeah, we all did because we were tired of your band’s bullshit. You won.” You say, walking past him and leaving his property to go to yours. Leaving that band alone was supposed to be a new era—no more rivalries and only playing for yourself. Mingyu, however, just keeps coming back into your life, and it’s sickening.

The following several days of staying at Jihyo’s, you noticed a pattern of when Mingyu would go to his house. It turns out it’s his childhood house, and he visits his family four times a week. Ever since he found out you’re his neighbour once again, he has visited you on the same days.

One time, you came back from work and found Mingyu sprawled and napping on your bed. You kicked him off your bed, started throwing pillows at him when he woke up, and kept calling him a pervert. Apparently, when he was looking for you, Jihyo let him in and told him to wait until you came back—but what she didn’t know was that you hate his guts.

When you tried kicking him out of the house, she caught you two and asked why you were kicking your boyfriend out. The moment she called him your boyfriend, Mingyu's lips grew a smirk, and he snaked his arm around your shoulders.

You were irked when he continued with, “Yeah, love, why are you?” Jihyo was, without a doubt, geeked out. You were quick to push him away and tell her that he wasn’t your boyfriend. She offered to stay for dinner, as Mingyu thought it was a great idea while you thought it was a horrible idea.

Eventually, he did stay over for dinner since the only person who was terrifying to fight was none other than Jihyo. She made the two of you sit next to each other, and the only thing she talked about was embarrassing you in front of him, telling him how you once cried over your orange falling in the toilet and how you always mistook some random person in the hallways as her.

It was humiliating to the point where you left the room for a few seconds. Bad idea, you thought. Who knows what kind of bullshit Jihyo will tell him? You quickly came back to your seat just as she finished whispering to him, causing him to smile a little. Jihyo excused herself to the bathroom, and it was just you two, eating in silence.

Whatever your cousin told him is making you nervous since Mingyu isn’t talking at all—and he always has something to say. You take a small glance at him, who was already looking at you, and turn your head away. Did he catch you staring at him? Or did you catch him staring at you?

"So, what’s the song called?” He asked without context. Song? Whatever Jihyo told him has to be music-related; otherwise, he wouldn’t be asking at all. What did she tell him, though?

“What song?”

“Your cousin told me you wrote a song about me back in high school.” What the fuck? Self-note to your next life: never tell anyone about your crushes. You internally push the panic button, and your jaw only drops. You’re left speechless, debating whether you should lie to him by telling him Jihyo says anything for the plot or be honest and confess you liked him before.

“It was just a poetry assignment, nothing special,” you clarify, lying about the last part because you know damn well it was dedicated to him.

He moves his face close to yours, innocently smiling and holding eye contact with you, as your faces are most likely two inches away from kissing. “Does that mean you like me?” He teases as he tilts his head.

You shoved his face away and started yelling at him. “It was freshman year! Any girl would have liked you more!”

“Well, now that I know you were one of those girls, I wish I had known you back then.” He starts laughing, as your hand is the only thing that's creating a barrier between you two. Jihyo comes back and asks what he was laughing about.

Without answering her, you immediately asked her, “Did you tell him I liked him?”

She grinned as if she were clueless and took a closer look at Mingyu. “Ohh! So you were the bassist in my Geo class,” she commented and turned to you. “No, I only told him you were downright horrendous for a guy who plays bass, to the point where you wrote a song about him.”

You groaned and sank in your seat. “Remind me to never tell you about any man I like.” While your eyes are shut, Jihyo looks at Mingyu, then at you and back at Mingyu, and starts wiggling her eyebrows. He looks away while he coughs aggressively and gets up from his seat as you sit properly.

“I should probably get going. It was nice meeting you again,” he concludes, shaking Jihyo’s hand. You all head to the front, and before he heads out, he looks at you once more and beams. “Goodnight, you two. Dream of me, (Name)!” He jokes before you push him out the door.

Unbeknownst to you, you dreamt of him that night—and you can’t deny that the idea of it made you giggle just a bit when you woke up.

TRACK_006_BREAKINGNEWS

Mingyu literally flipped when he finally got your number. It took him several months to convince you to give him your number. Whenever you asked why, he would simply answer with ‘cause why not’ or ‘don’t worry about it.’ Since then, he would text you nonstop whenever you two didn’t see each other, always starting by asking about your day and ending it off with goodnight texts at three in the morning.

He would also call you out of the blue, always giggling like a little girl whenever you answered his calls, and ramble random things about his day to you. Mingyu likes talking to you, and he loves it when you talk to him. His day isn’t complete without annoying you, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

Unfortunately, his time is up with you.

“I’m sorry?” He asks after hearing what Seungcheol, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, told him. His friend randomly woke him up after his fourteen-hour sleep to tell him he had to go on a date soon.

“I set you up with someone, and your date is in,” Seungcheol mentions as he checks his watch for the time, “three hours.”

Mingyu quickly sat up and began to make random noises, shouting a bunch of ‘whys.’.

Seungcheol tossed him a shirt and explained. “Well, once upon a time, I went for your beautiful sister. Vernon doesn’t mind the idea of dating, and Wonwoo is in love with music. It’s your turn.” Before Mingyu could defend himself, Seungcheol spoke up again: “And if you’re gonna mention that cellist, she’s our rival; don’t get yourself attached to someone who’s willing to sabotage your career.”

He’s right. Knowing you, you can drop the act and ruin everything he worked hard for. You’re dangerous. But he loves danger and wants to take the risk.

[Mingyu]: i survived!!!!

You were the first person Mingyu texted after his date. Long story short, he doesn’t want to go on another date. Seungcheol set him up with another bassist from a girl band. He wasn’t interested at all and would’ve preferred someone who didn’t play the same instrument as him, like a drummer or a cellist.

He’s engulfed in the warmth of his blanket, waiting for your reply to his message that he sent two hours ago. When it comes to texting, you’re very odd. You text people like you’re a mother. You would leave his messages on seen and text back hours later. He knows you’re a busy person, but he also knows you prefer calling over texting.

Seungcheol crashes into his room and slams himself on Mingyu’s bed. “How was the date?” He asks.

“Not a big fan. I prefer drummers,” he lies, keeping his eyes on his phone, still waiting for your response.

“Good choice. Your sister is a great example; she, a talented bassist, went for a hot drummer,” he comments, pointing at himself. Mingyu shrugs in response and doesn’t take his eyes off the screen. Seungcheol heavily sighs and snatches Mingyu’s phone from him. He glances at the screen and shuts it off.

“I’ll find a drummer for you, cause they’re rock stars, and rock stars don’t play the cello,” he provoked, tossing his phone back to the owner and leaving his room. Mingyu’s phone flashes open, a notification popping up on his lock screen.

[You]: The date?

[Mingyu]: yeah

[Mingyu]: it was the worst

[Mingyu]: i dont get along with my kind of people

[You]: You would be a very horrible boyfriend.

[Mingyu]: ur horrible boyfriend ;)

Thumbs down. That was how you responded to that—reacting to the message with a thumbs-down emoji. Mingyu chuckles at your reply and shuts his phone off. He can feel his heart beating fast. He likes to tease you by shipping you with himself, but it was always just jokes. This joke, however, has him thinking what it would be like to date you. He likes the sound of that—(Name)’s horrible boyfriend, Mingyu. Maybe he won’t mind going on a date with you.

12:37 AM. Mingyu had another date at seven in the evening with a drummer. Seungcheol expected him to come back in three hours, but when it was already almost midnight, he assumed the date was successful and thought he slept with her. In reality, the date ended earlier than he expected. As soon as Mingyu had met up with her, she was honest and admitted that she was forced to be here as well. He left right after and secretly went over to your house.

You were in the middle of baking strawberry cheesecake cookies, requested by Jihyo while she was at work. The cookies were in the oven when Mingyu rang the doorbell. When you opened the door to his face, you closed it before he could even greet you.

“I brought ice cream,” he mentioned, trying to convince you. The door creaked open, and he let himself in, watching you head to the kitchen to take the sheet pan out of the oven. He places the plastic bag on the coffee table and sprawls on the couch. You come into the living room, quickly place the plate of cookies and two spoons on the table, and sit next to Mingyu.

As he tries to grab a cookie, you slap his hand away from it. “Not for you.”

“So you’re just gonna put it on the table in front of my eyes and expect me not to eat it?!” He complains as you nod in response. “Ouch, princess, you might just be the cause of my death.”

“Do you expect me to feed you whenever you show up to my house uninvited?”

“Pretty much an unspoken rule between us.”

“Uh, no, we did not establish that at all.”

He pouts, his attempt at distracting you from his hand sneaking to the plate, which easily caught your eye before you slapped it away again. You pass the TV remote to Mingyu as you look through the flavours of ice cream in the bag that he brought. Cookies & Cream, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, Neapolitan, Mint Chocolate Chip, and the best flavour out there, Strawberry Cheesecake—which is no doubt the one you picked.

You look back up to the TV, where Mingyu was about to start playing a musical. “I’m feeling a High School Musical marathon right now.” He looks at you, his eyes practically pleading for you to say yes. You give in and agree, him cheering and quickly pressing the play button as a result.

Mingyu gets weirder and weirder each time you meet him. He’s a whole different person when he’s not on stage, like he’s about to conquer the world. How he went from an intimidating bassist to a man who can’t even kill a spider to save his life. You doubt he would be able to protect his image from the public.

All this doesn’t mean he’s a bad person, though. Despite you saying a lot of awful things about him, there are some parts of him that you tolerate. Even though he bugs you all the time, he’s a caring person who doesn’t want you to be lonely—although you prefer being alone all the time. His smile is a little detail you notice about him—how his grin gets wider each time he sees you.

Does he know you’ve been staring at him instead of the screen since the movie started?

After you two finished the first movie, you suggested watching the second one since your cousin wasn’t home yet and she hasn’t even replied to your texts. So you ended up watching the whole trilogy while eating the cookies that were about to get cold. By the time you finished the third movie, it was already past eleven in the evening, and you still hadn’t heard anything from Jihyo. Mingyu played a documentary to pass time, which was mundane, so you two pan out in small talk here and there instead.

Mingyu’s phone buzzes as he takes it out to look at texts from his leader.

[Seungcheol]: enjoy ur little “date” with little miss drummer

[Seungcheol]: REALLY take ur time with her

[Seungcheol]: girls love it when ur rough

[Seungcheol]: if you know what i mean ;)

Mingyu mutters out a ‘yuck,’ and if you were in his shoes, you would’ve said the same thing. He glances at you, who was perhaps reading his messages with his leader, and all you did was raise a brow at him.

“I swear I’m not having sex with anyone!” He refuted, not even giving a care about leaving his friend on read.

“Sure…”

“Seriously! I’m done with going on dates with my kind of people.”

A thought popped up in your mind. Mingyu was never serious about playing in a band, so that would mean it wasn’t his first priority. Serious musicians prioritize music over relationships, so why is it that he’s not interested in dating? “How come you don’t want to date?”

Mingyu was taken aback by your question. It’s a broad topic. He actually wants to be committed to a relationship. It’s not that he doesn’t want to date, but he doesn’t want to date rockers. He sees how they act and the chaos they would start. He would know; he’s one of them. So he wants to balance it out; he would want someone who’s the opposite of him. That’s why he was so intrigued when he met you. How is he supposed to tell you he doesn’t want to date anyone but you?

He shrugs as a response instead, trying to avoid the question. You suddenly recall that time you went to the club and encountered him there. It’s been bothering you since you don’t want to believe that you kissed him, but you needed to clear it from your mind.

“What happened that night we went clubbing? Did we do something…suggestive?” You ask out of the blue. Mingyu says nothing but smiles to himself.

“What if I said we did?” You groan at his response and cover your face. “I was kidding! We actually didn't.” He laughs sheepishly. “You assaulted me instead.”

What the hell? You always say that you’ll make your enemies pay, but you didn’t think you’d actually do it, especially when you’re drunk.

“Right after I whispered in your ear, you literally grabbed my lips. Then when I tried pulling your hand away, you pushed my face away.” When Mingyu stops explaining, you think that's it, but from his awkward expression, he definitely had more to say. “So I may or may not have gripped onto you by the neck.” ‘His other hand held the back of your neck’ was really his attempt at strangling you.

“You splashed water on me, and when I was gonna go to the restroom to clean myself up, you followed me, so I made you stand against the wall until I was done.” ‘Your back pressed against the cold wall’ was another way of saying that he put your grown ass on time-out.

“When I came out, you started pulling my hair, and I had to call your friend over to take you home before you could give me a second bald spot.” Mingyu turns his head and parts some of his hair out of the way to show you the small growing bald spot that you did on the back of his head. ‘Your fingers brushing against his soft hair’ is more like your hands ripping his hair out.

Damn, you can’t believe you did all of that. It doesn’t sound like you, but at the same time, it definitely does!

"Wow...” is all you can respond to about your actions. You sigh in relief, and your worries about that night are washed away. “I’m kind of relieved I did that instead. I thought we made out or something.”

The instant regret comes to you as soon as you confess your thoughts, with Mingyu slowly turning his head to face you with his awkward expression now forming into a smug face. “So you thought about us kissing, didn’t you?” Before you could defend yourself like always, you were saved by another notification that popped up on Mingyu’s phone.

[Wonwoo]: cheol said you're not coming home tonight, but I know you're not screwing with other women right now.

[Wonwoo]: I also know you're at the cellist’s house because you have your location on. so I advise you to turn it off if you don't want to get caught.

[Wonwoo]: are you going to bring her to the festival?

Mingyu looks back to you, who was actually trying to watch the documentary instead of looking at his messages. “Do you want to go to the winter music festival this Saturday?”

“Sure, I’ll bring my friends there too,” you agreed without hesitation or careful consideration, not even looking at Mingyu but keeping your eyes on the screen.

[Mingyu]: yeah, r u bringing yours

[Wonwoo]: obviously, that’s why I asked you because I don’t want to get caught.

[Wonwoo]: and if I did get in trouble, you too would be in trouble with me.

[Mingyu]: im surprised no one found out abt ur little relationship

[Wonwoo]: I’m surprised you’re not afraid that our manager knows about yours.

[Mingyu]: we’re not a thing YET!

[Mingyu]: but we should never hide what we love!!!

[Wonwoo]: …

[Wonwoo]: it is a tough world we live in.

Mingyu takes another look at you, who was dozing off from the boredom of watching. Wow, the documentary must really be that boring. He thinks about what Wonwoo said. it’s a tough world they live in. Rock and classical are never a good mix. You’re the polar opposite of what he is. He’s supposed to hate you, but there’s something about you that draws him to you. However, you’re very competitive and dedicated to the feud. Oh, how he wishes there was never rivalry in the first place.

[Mingyu]: life is hard but im harder 🗣️

[Wonwoo]: shut the hell up.

When you woke up, Mingyu was already gone, and the TV was off. The table was sparkly clean, and you found yourself wrapped in a blanket. Jihyo walked in the living room, caught off guard when she saw you sitting up. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” she joked as she went to sit next to you on the couch.

“What time is it?”

“Past midnight. I came home not too long ago and saw you with you-know-who.” Jihyo must’ve showed up when he was still here and kicked him out. Yeah, that’s it—or what you hope you think.

“Did he leave right after you came?”

Jihyo giggles and pulls out her phone, showing you a picture she took of you and Mingyu sleeping together on the couch. “You guys are so cute, I might just set this as my lockscreen!” You groan at her words as you get up to do your nightly routine, hoping that this won’t haunt you in your dreams like always.

Mingyu sneaked back into the apartment and quietly exulted in the lights being shut off, a sign that all his roommates were asleep. When he headed over to the kitchen for a glass of water, he heard footsteps behind him, and the lights turned on. Too afraid to turn around, he continues slowly reaching for a cup in the cabinet and places it down on the counter. It could be anyone behind him: a blind Wonwoo, a tired Vernon, a scary Seungcheol, or all three of them—but he’s especially afraid of looking face-to-face with everyone.

Instead of any of those options, the mysterious person speaks up, and he recognizes the voice a bit too well. “The fuck are you doing here?” his little sister complains before Mingyu turns his head to look at her.

“I should be asking you that. Also, be mindful and cover up!” He throws a pair of oven mitts at her, who was wearing nothing but Seungcheol’s oversized t-shirt.

“I would’ve put on some proper clothes, but no one is here except me and Cheol—until you showed up. He told me you were fucking some girl.”

“I didn’t even tell him that; he just assumed I did.” He fills the glass with tap water and takes a sip after speaking.

“So, where were you then?”

Right, she doesn’t know about you yet, and Mingyu doesn’t want to tell her at all. She’s practically another version of Seungcheol, and she’ll snitch to him—even though he’s already on his ass because of you.

“It’s not like you would care,” he deadpans.

“Yeah, you’re right. You probably just went out to drown yourself in alcohol—you reek of beer, by the way.”

“Whatever.” Mingyu leaves the kitchen and makes his way to his room. She’s not entirely wrong. He stayed in the parking lot for half an hour, drinking beer before he decided to sneak in.

Saturday rolls by, and you show up at the festival with your quartet. The field is covered with people, but there’s a decent amount, like most music festivals. The violinist had already gone off into the crowd—most likely to see her man. You’re 100% sure she was invited before you were since she brought it up to the other two before you could. Ryuwon thought this was a perfect time for the four of you to bond, and well, Yoonhee only agreed to come for the food. You want to say you’re here for the vibes and just to explore other artists, but honestly, you only came because Mingyu asked you to.

It was only just the three of you walking around, and in a crowd like this, you doubt you can find Mingyu anywhere. A jazz band was in the middle of performing, and you don’t know if a few bands had already passed or if this was the first band on stage. All you know is that his band is fifth in the line-up, so you’ll just have to wait for the announcement.

“I wonder why they didn’t invite us to perform. It’s literally in our name, Snow Swan,” Yoonhee pondered, looking at a pamphlet that was most likely about the festival.

"Well, there’s always next winter,” Ryuwon reasoned. She picked up a sample cup of hot chocolate from people handing it out and downed it in seconds. “For now, let’s just enjoy what it’s like to be the audience.”

The three of you were roaming around the field, visiting pop-up shops, vibing to the bands performing, and spending most of your time in the food stalls—mainly that last bit. As you were in the middle of eating a potsticker, you overheard a group of girls talking about Mingyu’s band and that they were going to make sure they got to see them up close when they performed. They ramble about how hot they look when they play and how they would love to be serenaded by them. Hah, if only they knew how miserable it feels to be tormented by them.

The fourth band finishes their performance by the time you finish your plate of potstickers, and the speaker announces that Cherry Bass will be up in less than five minutes. You hurry your way over to the stage, where there were hundreds of people piled up in front just to see Mingyu’s band perform. They were in the middle of preparing their instruments, as the audience was already getting ecstatic over them. You can barely see their faces from where you’re standing, and you doubt Mingyu can locate you.

Their drummer starts off their first song, and the crowd goes wild before they even start singing. Throughout the whole song, you can only hear Mingyu’s bass, despite him being the quietest out of all of them. The cellist in you can recognize his rhythm, his slap bass, his fingerstyle, and even his muting. There’s some groove to it and a bit of funk, but it’s still rock. You hate rock; you’ve always despised it. But the way Mingyu plays it has you thinking otherwise.

Why does he have to be a rock star? Why couldn’t he just play something normal like the double bass? He’s a stupid man who plays the bass; he just had to be a bassist. The rhythm is pounding—is it even the rhythm, or is your heart just beating really loud and fast? You spent the rest of the performance listening to their setlist, mainly focusing on Mingyu’s parts. You can’t lie; he is good at the bass, like he always says.

The band left the stage, and the majority of the audience disappeared too. “They were good,” the violinist comments, who was watching right next to you the whole time. Like you, she was gazing at her guitarist friend. You can tell she has no shame in their friendship and ignores the whole rivalry that surrounds them.

“Yeah, really good.” The two of you walked around the field, trying to find the other two while looking through some pop-up shops. One of the shops was selling tote bags, and they were selling a particular bag that was displaying a giant embroidered strawberry on both sides. You spent such a long time admiring the bag and considering buying it that you didn’t even notice someone was creeping up behind you.

“Hey pretty, long time no see,” Mingyu jokes. He eyes you, then the bag, then back to you. “Never thought you would show up, honestly.”

You put down the bag and began to walk away as Mingyu followed you from behind. “I never skip music festival days—unless it’s country, then that’s when I’ll dip.”

“Guess that’s a sign I shouldn’t switch to country.”

You both leave the tent, and to your surprise, flurries of snow start falling. It’s a beautiful sight, and you're glad you brought a scarf with you. “Hey, it’s snowing!” You exclaim, reaching your hand out to look at the intricate detail of each different snowflake. You admire each one of them as some fall on your hands again and the former ones melt away.

Mingyu ruffles your hair while he watches you admire the snowflakes. “You’re getting snow in your hair; you look like you have dandruff,” he jokes.

You bent down to grab snow from the ground and threw it at his face. “And you look like Frosty right now.” He wipes the snow off his face, and you both laugh it off. He gazes at you, who’s not even noticing that he’s looking at you while you’re busy laughing your ass off. You stop eventually, and somehow, you two make eye contact.

Neither of you is talking, and all you can ever hear is the pop band playing in the background.

‘If it’s okay with you, I think I’m gonna love you for a long time.’

You look into Mingyu’s eyes. He’s not saying anything, and you don’t think he’ll say a single word in the next minute. Look away, (Name), while you have the chance. This is odd, yet it feels so intimate.

To Mingyu, you look like a flock of doves or maybe a dancing swan. You’ve always looked pretty in his eyes, but today, it’s different. He can’t tell if it’s the way you styled your hair up, did your makeup simple, or the ivory outfit you picked out. But you look so beautiful that he feels he doesn’t deserve to look at you.

A smile creeps up on his face, and you scowl, lightly punching his shoulder after. “You weirdo! Don’t go silent on me like that.” All he responded was a chuckle, and you two walked into the crowd to listen to the band.

‘I think I’m gonna love you for my whole life.’

more from rhin, this is originally a spin off to an unreleased hhu band au (which is why the violinist and mg’s sister are unnamed bc they were supposed to ww’s and sc’s readers). i most likely won’t continue the other works since when i first came up with this idea, i used to be a violinist but i quit so i don’t remember anything abt the violin😭 this is actually my old writing style so i didnt even bother changing things other than fixing the grammar lmao. i hope u guys liked reading this as much i loved writing this!

svt masterlist .ᐟ

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jollyhunter · 22 hours ago

Text

Finally I get to react to this lovely review 🧡

This description of period pain is the best. I gotta say - you know what the one benefit of having a baby is? No period. And sometimes it takes even looonnger after. And okay pain, sure, but you forget that, and yes, bleeding once the birth is done, but you have the excuse to wear nappies and use ice packs for your hoohaa and, and, people give you sympathy lol - sorry, tmi… 😂

ice packs for your hoohaa?? I - I had no idea 😳 never excuse yourself for tmi, this is educational okay 😂

And excuse me miss, spoiled our self with Chuck spoilers did we? I guess it’s hard not to…

Yup, I've read it in so many fics. Just little things like "Oh for Chuck's Sake". And the first time I read it, I was VERY confused for obvious reasons but yeah, I pieced it together quickly 😂

Hahaha - I know you said you like One Piece somewhere, I’m sure we spoke about it once - do they teach kids that in the ahow/manga? I’ve only ever seen it in samurai stuff. Have you ever watched any of the Rurouni Kenshin adaptations! You NEED to see it if you haven’t. The dude in the live action version is hot 🔥

LOL yes we did! And we spoke about Dragon Ball too 😂 No I haven't watched it yet!!! But I know who you're talking about! (Also that Mackenyu, who played in Rurouni Kenshin's live action, plays Zoro in the One Piece live action 😏)

Hahaha - he’s not wrong 😂 benefits all round…

Let's be real. It's the only benefit, Dean.

I mean, she’s surrounded by Dean, wouldn’t she be horny all the time, but truth. I also liked how you word played the nub here at the bottom - look, I did it too - it really liked that. I feel like that fruit gut is called for right about now…

Probably, lol. Aaah yes, that gif... here you go, only took me another 10 minutes to find it (I don't know why I just spent so much time for that. For the future; It's literally the first one for "squishy fruit finger" lmao)

Ahhhh - I love it. Dean totally would, too. They’re surrounded by blood as you said, what’s different. Though I love how clueless he is about the days. Unless this has been going on for a little longer, anyone who has their period for two days, I’m very damn jealous of! Is it even possible?

Aren't most men just clueless about this? Even when they should know. I feel like I'm repeating myself every month that - no - my period is not done after the second day 😂

I’m seeing bean a lot lately! It is cute ❤️

Really?? I feel like I must've picked it up somewhere at some point but I can't remember where

Hahaha - Dean you horny fucker! But yes please? I was kind of hoping he might’ve convinced her 😏 I was enjoying this way too much.

😂 don't worry, I'm pretty damn sure he would find a way to convince her if he tried long enough

Okay. So when I read Nathan Algren, I was scratching my head. Is that his Last Samurai character’s name? I think I’ve seen that move once - shame on me. But it didn’t click till I got here.

Yeah, okay, so, you got me there. I didn't remember his name either, had to google it. I just tossed it in there for Dean's pop-culture reference's sake, thinking that he would've probably liked that movie and the idea of being a Samurai. 😅

This was marvellous! I can’t wait to see what your mind comes up with next. I just love the way you write the inner monologues with the touches of humour - speaks to my soul ❤️

Thank you so so much Beth!! You're one of my inspiring writers for humour 🧡🧡🧡

Shower Reliever

⋆ ˚｡⋆ COUPLE Dean Winchester x f!Reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆ WARNINGS SMUT 18+ MDNI, established relationship, menstruating (evil cramps!!), tooth-rotting sweet fluff, mention of blood (light), Dean being dorky and cute, guided masturbation in the shower? (idk how to tag this sryyy), Dean’s misuse of a shower head as a magic wand, no use of Y/N, English isn’t my native language

⋆ ˚｡⋆ SUMMARY It’s that time of the month; Cramps are tormenting you, but Dean’s there to cheer you up and look after you by giving you some relief. ♡ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ WORDS 4,2k

It’s afternoon. Or maybe it’s evening.

How are you supposed to know when you’re surrounded by the bunker’s concrete and artificial light all day?

A pathetic, writhing-weeping blood sacrifice wrapped up in bed sheets like a burrito. That’s what you are. Ready to be served. Honestly, though? Big Hellhound pupper toying with your guts suddenly seems much more appealing than a day ago. At least the doggo wouldn’t take three damn days to rip your innards out.

But you won’t complain. Because right now? Things seemed oddly… okay? It’s almost suspicious.

A deep sigh of relief falls of your lips and you dare to sprawl out on the mattress. Star-fish formation. Plain ceiling staring back down at you.

You’re maybe 5 seconds into your newfound content - and then the little bitch ruins it by raking her peeler down your walls. A sharp hiss presses past your clenched teeth.

Nevermind. Here she goes again.

Peeling your uterus out from the inside. Like Lilith herself is down there, having a feast on your unborn – and very non-existent – baby.

Muffled by Dean’s pillow, you scream. Fuck that time of the month.

Why’s it always that time of the month? Again and again and again.

Why can’t you just get the period twice a year like a bitch and get on with it? It’s not like you signed up for this. In fact, you’d very much like to file a complaint.

Not that Chuck would care. “That bastard knows why he doesn’t own an uterus...” you grumble.

A hot flush shoots through your body. Wheezing takes over your breathing. The bedsheets go flying along some of the pillows you’d burrowed yourself in.

Burning up. Hot. Your body feels like your ovaries decided to have a meltdown.

You roll around the bed, aimlessly. A ball of messy hair. Entangled in the sweat-drenched pyjama you couldn’t get yourself to change from. Arms clutched around your stomach, fingers clawing at the hot-water bag which so far hasn’t done much more than give you third-degree burns and only add to the feverish heat steaming beneath your skin.

When the door to your and Dean’s bedroom opens, you can’t even bring yourself to lift your head. Instead you’re curled up like a salted snail, squirming, each and every noise escaping from you thick with pain.

“Hey baby, ‘m back…” Dean greets you from across the room, his voice dying down as he spots you on the bed just where he'd left you this morning.

Your face plants into the sheets when you double over from another stab to your uterus.

“It’s trying to kill me, Dean,” you whimper into the mattress. Dean’s face contorts at your strangled sound.

“That bad?” It’s a stupid question, and he realizes it the moment it leaves his mouth. Of course it’s bad. You look like hell.

And worst is, it’s been going like this the entire day already. First time Dean’s witnessing it from the start, too. You’d been together for a couple of months now, but you being you, you’d so far managed to slip away just in time before your period kicked down the door.

Now that you moved in with the boys in the bunker that didn’t seem an option any longer.

You watch Dean’s face harden, the way it always does when he starts to feel helpless.

Indeed, Dean could feel the frustration claw on the inside of his chest. To the point he secretly wished your state would just be the aftermath of a hunt gone wrong.

At least he would know what to do then, y’know? Clean your wounds, stitch you back together if needed – maybe it wouldn’t look as neat as when you did it, but it’d do the job – because that’s what he’s good at.

But this? He didn’t quite know how to work with this.

There’s no injury he could just patch up. No swig of whiskey to dampen the pain. No way for him to help. And watching you writhe like you were being tortured from the inside, was killing him.

He sighs. The shopping bag in his hand gets dropped to the floor and he rounds the bed to your side. A frustrated hand ruffles back his hair. His eyes taking in the battlefield you’ve caused. And they come to rest on your crumpled form, smack in the middle of it all.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart…” He mutters softly. And he means it. You know he does. The words were simple, yet you know that if he could, he’d take your pain away in a heartbeat. But he can’t. Because for some reason, despite all the supernatural crap you get to deal with on a daily basis, this isn’t an option.

Damn you Chuck.

You make a sound between a whine and a sigh at the grave conclusion, at which Dean’s eyebrows pull together.

The bed dips down beside you and next moment the warmth of his body presses against your side. He slowly runs his hand over your shoulders to rub your back in soothing circles.

“Anything I can do to make you feel better..?” he asks.

“Rip it out. Use it for your next blood sacrifice. Sell it to Crowley. I don’t care- I don’t want it no more.” You wail while crawling into his lap, your face burying into his grey shirt and the blue jacket that’s partially covering it.

“Jesus,”– Dean laughs softly, his deep voice rumbling under your cheeks –“Yeah, not happening.”

His arms wrap around you to pull you closer. The familiar smell of his fills your senses when you nuzzle your nose into the fabric of his clothes. A combination of his musk, fresh lemon and a hint of sweetness of his cologne clouds your mind.

Your muscles relax for a fraction. Melting into his heavy embrace. It’s odd how just a smell can have such a calming effect. As of right now, you wished you could just climb into his shirt, buttoned-up, and pressed flush against his body. All safe, warm and fuzzy.

But Uterus-Lilith had different plans. The sharp wince you try to bite back, doesn’t go unnoticed by Dean.

“My poor baby… C’mere…” He leans down to place a tender kiss onto your crown while he cradles you on his lap like a wounded animal.

His chin comes to rest on top of your head. Lips press against your hair. “It’ll pass… You’ll feel better soon… My brave girl…” He murmurs softly and you sigh.

Another twinge to your abdomen. Your body jolts, then caves in. Dean startles for a moment but then tightens his arms around you, pulling you up against his chest.

While he continues to rub your back, his other hand begins to card through the back of your hair. “Shhh, it’s okay… I got you…”

“It’s like the damn thing is committing sepukku.” You lament with fingers curled into his shirt. Nose buried in his chest. Trying everything to physically ground you until the cramp goes by.

At that comparison, Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and his lips twitch into a pressed smirk. “Damn it, don’t make me laugh.” His stomach contracts and shakes beneath you.

In response, a disgruntled noise gets huffed into his chest. And Dean can’t help a short, surprised snort.

“Sepukku?” He tries so hard to sound serious and to hold in his chuckles, but finally loses his battle. “Seriously?” He shakes his head lightly and his green eyes crinkle slightly when he continues to tease you, “You telling me, you got a wee little Samurai down there?”

A wee little Samurai throwing a tantrum in your uterus? Okay, that image carried a smile to your lips. Sounds a lot cooler than Lilith feeding on your unborn child.

Unfortunately the wee little Samurai was not amused and rammed it’s katana once more into your uterus.

Another jolt goes through your body. Another strangled sound follows. You burrow your face even further into his arms in hopes that his smell will just work like some narcotics.

Perhaps it’ll just knock me out when I dig my face deep enough into his shirt? A weird thought. But you guess that’s just what menstrual hormones mixed with pain does.

“Yes.” you wince, “And it failed to conceive a child,” then groan in agony, “So now it wants to punish me for it.”

Now Dean actually has to bite back a hearty laughter. “Oh, sweetie.”– he taps your head lightly with his finger –“Look on the bright side. At least we know I didn't knock you up. It's like a free monthly pregnancy test.“

That jab would have earned him a deadpan glare of yours if it wasn’t for the next attack on your inner walls and your body jerked into his arms this time.

Dean’s light-hearted expression contorts into a pained one. Jaws clenched with a twinge of guilt.

“Want me to get you some painkillers? Or – uh – maybe some whisky?” he inquires, his head tilted down in an attempt to meet your gaze. But your eyes are scrunched up, face still hidden in his bunched up shirt.

“Baby, can you look at me for a sec?” he pleads, while his hands slip underneath to cradle your chin now, coaxing you out of your den. You lift your head, just enough to meet his concerned eyes.

“None of that helps…” You mutter. Although you did wonder whether whiskey might even do the trick. Get the wee little samurai bitch a little tipsy down there, hm? Maybe it would pass out?

No – no, now you’re thinking like Dean. That’s a terrible idea.

“Imagine you’re getting stabbed in the stomach and the blade gets twisted. Repeatedly. For hours.”

Dean winces inwardly at your description. A hand instinctively clutches his stomach. He doesn’t have to imagine what that pain feels like. He knows.

He shakes his head like he’s trying to snap out of some memories from downstairs, his eyes back on you just when you writhe again with a stifled groan.

“Okay, that‘s enough. I‘m getting you off the rack,” he declares and you don’t even get the chance to react when he’s already scooping your curled up form up into his arms.

“W-what? What are you going to do, Dean?” you ask confused while he pulls you to your feet and starts leading you out the bedroom and down the bunker's hallway.

"I'm going to distract you," he replies, glancing back over his shoulder at you while he leads you to the main bathroom, "I did some digging this morning... to see what I could do to help with your period cramps, and it looks like an orgasm might do the trick."

You stop in your tracks. Quick enough for Dean to almost stumble into the bathrooms doorframe.

"N-no," you squeak, eyes wide.

"No, what? No it won't work or no you don't-"

"No, I'm fine."

"So it does work?"

"Well- uh-" you trip over your words when the heat rushes to your cheeks, "It's - it's different when I... uh..."

"Hey, it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of," he chuckles softly and brings up his hand to cup your cheek, "Is it 'cuz of the blood? You do know I don't care about it, right? You really think I won't touch you just 'cause you're on your period?"

"No, but... it's awkward... and gross..." you mumble, eyes averted as you can feel the heat going both ways now.

Because, even if you wouldn't admit it, you did feel a bit horny. It's just one of those many fluctuating emotions a period entails. In those blessed days, it feels like your mood is being regulated by a pinball machine. And as of right now, it hit the tingling nub at the very bottom.

"Gross? Honey, I've been covered in guts, sludge, crap and all sorts of other nasty stuff. Do you honestly think a little blood's gonna phase me?" He tilts your head up to make you look at him, his lips twitch in amusement but his words are genuine, "You're not gross, sweetheart. Not to me..."

"But-" the next argument forms on your lips when he dives down to muffle them with a kiss. Your cheeks cradled by his large hands. Tender, soft, but enough to shut you up and make you melt into him.

When he finally pulls back, his plump lips still hovering inches from yours, he speaks softly.

“Why don’t you just let me take care of you?”

His green eyes flick back and forth between yours, intense and yet calming. And really, how could you ever say no to him when he looks at you like you'll break his heart if you don't let him help you.

A sudden twinge in your stomach has you hunch over, and it's enough to finally convince you to let go of your tribulations with a weak nod of yours.

“Okay," you wince under your sharp exhale. The pain in your voice has Dean's hands dart down, one to your contracted stomach and one to the small of your back.

"Alright then, c'mon, sweetheart..." he mutters. Then gently guides you towards the shower after he closed and locked the door behind you.

When he notices how your teeth pull at your lower lip the way they always do when you're overthinking things, he grabs both of your hands. He squeezes them to get you to look at him, just to bestow you with one of his trademark grins. Confident, cheeky and oh so lovable.

“You trust me, right? It won't be awkward, promise. Nothing wrong with giving my girl some relief. Besides... This is purely therapeutic,” he quips and winks at you.

Once both of your clothes are piled up in a corner, you pad over the cold tiles and into the shower. Dean slides in after you, his naked body flush against your skin, his body heat a warm welcome in the cold air of the large bathroom. His arms envelop you from behind, one hand splayed out on your stomach to try and sooth your cramps, the other reaching for the shower head to pull it from its holder.

“Lean back, I got you baby,” he assures you while tugging you gently further back into his chest.

He turns on the shower, tests the temperature until it's the perfect heat and then slowly brings it down to the level of your stomach with the spray of water still pointed to the floor.

“Spread your legs a bit for me, sweetie,” he gently nudges his knee between your thighs, coaxing you into a wider stance while he continues to hum above you, “Mhm, that's it. Now just relax and lemme take care of you...”

Dean rests his chin on top of your head, the stubbles tingling your scalp as he does so. The air around you slowly begins to mix with steam while his body holds you close. Save and protected. The world reduced to just the two of you and the warmth hugging you from head to toe. Your thoughts and worries are drowned out by the rhythmic pattering of the droplets hitting the smooth shower floor as the sound echoes off of the tiled bunker walls all around you.

You feel yourself relax against him, despite the occasional, small jolts of pain which keep reminding you of that fact.

At last, a heavy sigh drops off your lips. The signal Dean has been waiting for.

He tugs at the hose, just enough to guide the water up your legs, then your thighs...

When the first jet of water hits right on your bundle of nerves, you almost buckle over with a gasped, “Oh shit-”

Your fingernails bite into the skin of his forearms, drawing a hiss from him. He moves his free hand to your hip, his grip on your squishy flesh gentle but strong. Steadying and grounding you.

“Feels good?” he asks while playing with the angle of the shower head.

You nod. Jolting whenever one of the water jets grazes your sensitive spot.

“Want me to keep goin‘?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

The hand on your hips slides over the bump on your bones and dips down between your legs. Next moment, calloused fingers slip along your folds to spread them open.

You shiver under the touch of his rough fingertips and at the feeling of him coating them in some of your arousal.

He angles the shower head slightly lower now, until a row of water jets skim your entrance. Your breath hitches. Then comes out in a shaky whimper.

Your legs start to go weak, feeling like jello.

Dean gently tugs you up again and pulls your back flush into his chest to keep you upright, making sure he's your anchor in this tidal wave of pleasure he's drowning you in.

“Just let go... that’s it…” he coos, now his head angled to nuzzle his nose against your temple.

Another shockwave travels through your body and tightens your coil even more, to the point it feels like it’s going to explode soon.

Your head drops back onto Dean‘s shoulder. Neck draped over his collarbone, just where his anti-possession tat lays. Shaky and ragged breaths mingle in the damp air of the shower.

“Just relax,” he places a kiss to your temple, his stubbles tingling the wet skin as he murmurs, “I got you.”

His fingers spread you further while he brings the shower head closer, allowing some of the water to push past your entrance.

“Oh fuck- Dean-” you gasp and whine at the same time.

„Language, young lady,“ he chides playfully, „This is purely therapeutical, remember?“

You choke on a giggle when he moves the shower head a fraction lower and the water jet grazes your sensitive nub just the right way, enough to send an intense jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Ah, so that's the magic angle, huh?” Dean laughs softly, his chest rumbling against your back.

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out in a weak whimper as Dean's making sure to keep the right angle.

The intensity has your nerves on fire, like your core's being hooked up to electricity with hundreds of little needles tingling your most sensitive spot.

“M-move - p-please,” you beg in a shaky voice that has Dean's smile next to your cheek widen.

“Guide me,” he prompts softly, the hand on the shower head waiting for your instructions. You slip your hand along his strong arm, over the bump of his wrist, until you cover his hand with your tender fingers.

Slowly you begin to guide his hand into small, circular motions. The water jets brush your nub now from all sides, the overwhelming sensation enough to make you whimper weakly and your head loll to the side to bury your nose under his jaw.

“Too much?” he asks, his head tips to the side to look down into your eyes. You shake your head, lips parted, eyes half-lidded as they meet his. Hair’s stuck to your damp, flushed, skin, pupils blown wide, gaze intoxicated from pleasure.

The corner of his lips tugs into a smirk at your blissful expression. It's such a stark contrast to what you'd looked like moments ago when you were doubling over from pain. And if it wasn’t for the special circumstances, he’d make sure to keep you in this state all day and night. The growing pressure of his own arousal heavy against your back is evidence of his thoughts.

But this is about you now. His needs will just have to wait for – for… how long did a period even last? A day? Two? Hm, maybe if you’d feel comfortable enough, he wouldn’t need to wait this long. But one step at a time.

When your legs begin to shake, Dean presses his lips to your ear, murmuring into it, deep and hoarse from his own arousal.

“You’re doing so well for me… Now close your eyes, sweetheart. I want you to just relax and feel…”

You don't have to be told twice. The intensity is enough to make your eyes flutter close, squinting them even as your face contorts from the jolts of pleasure coursing through your body like a firework.

“Now I want you to imagine it's my mouth down there...”

While he keeps you distracted with the images he's painting in his husky voice, the hand on your folds leaves you and he reaches for the tap, increasing the water pressure.

“Y'know... the way I like to wrap my lips around you… and suck on that cute little bean 'til you're sobbing.”

“O-oh my God-” you mewl after the hard jet of water swallows your pulsing nub, causing your legs to buckle. The feeling's like a lightning bolt has just hit you. And it just keeps striking. Your other hand darts to his thigh behind you, fingernails biting into his skin in an attempt to ground you. But the jolts of pleasure set the nerves down your legs on hot white fire now, with everything from your stomach downwards tingling.

“That’s the reaction I was hoping for…” he chuckles and keeps going with his sweet words of praise somewhere outside of your clouded mind.

Images of Dean kneeling between your legs pulse under your eyelids. How his broad shoulders shove your knees apart, keeping your legs spread as they begin to fight him from the intensity of his mouth on your core. How the soft flesh of your thighs is squished under the force of his fingers, how you witness the veins on his arms pop as his muscles work relentlessly to prevent you from squirming away. How he holds your gaze the entire time, pupils blown up wide from hunger and lust as they eat away the deep emerald pools circling them.

Ragged breaths leave your lips. Another row of jolts has your body shaking in his arms. Each one driving you closer to your climax until you’re teetering on the edge. When your body begins to fight him and thrash around, Dean quickly tightens his grip around your hips to hold you in place.

He moves his lips to your temple, planting a tender kiss there, prickling stubbles brush the side of your face while he continues to talk you through it.

“You're doing so well... Let go for me, sweetheart... I've got you, I'll catch you, promise.”

Just when you feel yourself tip over, his free hand leaves your core to the constant onslaught of the circling water jets and moves it to your hand. His fingers slide between yours, intertwining them.

Then the tidal wave crashes down on you.

Dean's hand squeezes yours. The corner of his lips still pressed to your temple.

A guttural sound leaves the back of your throat when waves after waves of ecstasy course through you, enough for your knees to give in as your body goes limp.

“Oh- we goin' down?” he jokes softly as he follows your movement.

As promised, Dean catches you right after you've dropped some inches. Chuckling lightly above you as he pulls you back to your feet. Legs still shaky like a newborn foal’s.

“C'mon, bambi...” - he teases and slides the shower head back into place before he wraps both of his arms around your waist and turns you to face you with a soft smile - “…there you go.” You smile back at him, your hands finding purchase on his hips, gaze still a bit woozy.

He brushes a damp strand of hair out of your face, head tilted down to your eye-level, “Hey there, sweetie. You feeling better?”

“Yes,” you sigh, one of relief at the missing pain. At least for the moment. You melt into his embrace, feeling how your wet and naked bodies lock together like a perfect puzzle piece. “So much better.”

“Good, that’s good…” he murmurs into your hair after your forehead had dropped to his chest.

After a moment of peaceful silence, a mischievous grin creeps onto his face.

He clears his throat.

“You want me to battle that wee little samurai with my sword now?”

It takes your dazed mind a moment to catch up with his rather creative innuendo.

Once it hits you, you sputter an amused chuckle, “Please don’t.”

Dean huffs through his nose, feigning disappointment.

“Aw c’mon… Y'know, I’ve always wanted to fight a samurai… I’d make a pretty good Nathan Algren, don’t ya think?” he quips, then his lips quirk into a boyish, innocent grin as he adds, “...and my sword wouldn't mind getting bloody either.”

Now this has you raise your head to meet his cheeky expression and burst out in laughter.

“You do us both a favour and keep your mighty sword in your pants for now, you hear me? Idiot-” you playfully slap his chest, the wet sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. Dean’s grin doesn’t waver, instead his hands on your back slide down your spine until they reach your ass cheeks.

He clicks his tongue.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, s’all I’m sayin’,” he jabs softly as he pats both your ass cheeks. His eyes crinkle at the corner, and he's got a secret smile on his face, proud of how he made you not only smile, but laugh, despite the hell trip you’re on. Maybe he’s not as helpless as he thought.

His features suddenly harden, eyes narrowed as they dart down to your stomach, a pointed finger now prodding the spot below your bellybutton.

“Now back to you,” he growls, you giggle, and he has to fight to keep a straight face and his voice especially low and warning as he continues, “You leave my girl alone now. Or else I’ll personally come down there and take care of you, Tom Cruise style. You hear me you evil little bitch?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆ J/NOTES May Dean bring some relief to all of you poor, fellow victims of Uterus Lilith. <3

And thank you, @ambiguous-avery for your help with the correct name for the shower head lol 😌

Dean Tags List

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24

@ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3 @maddie0101 @livya99 @supernotnatural2005

@youdontknowe @zepskies @waynes-multiverse @123passwort

@champagnepoets @salemslostwitch @chevroletdean @multiversefanfics @toxicfataldestiny

❀ꗥ Want to join my TAG LIST? Fill out this form!

#that gif itself deserves a mdni warning #lovely moots 💕#bettystonewell

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witchslove · 1 day ago

Note

I’ve written you a couple times but can I be 🚀 anon :)

thinking abt sub!milf!wanda that’s a little inexperienced and repressed with a more sexually confident reader…

Yes, you can! Also I kinda got carried away with this one so enjoy!

I love this idea, Wanda being inexperienced because the only person she’s slept with was the father of her children and the sex with him wasn’t even good most of the time. She has no idea what it feels like to really be taken care of by someone else, until she meets you.

She’s so sweet and innocent when the two of you start sleeping together, she’s definitely not used to her partner wanting to please her so badly. She’s shy at first, her useless ex-husband never making her feel beautiful or desired during sex. You encourage her to let you see all of her and she blushes when you tell her she’s gorgeous everywhere.

What really gets her is the dirty talk. No one has ever spoken to her like that before and here you are, telling her what a pretty pussy she has and how badly you want her to cum in your mouth. You bring her to orgasm with your fingers first and she’s surprised when you want her to go again, barely having been given one orgasm by her ex, let alone two.

By the end of your first time together, Wanda has cum at least four times and she’s shocked that she’s the one stopping you from continuing, her oversensitive pussy begging for a break. She admits she’s never been taken care of like this and you promise to always make her feel good whenever she wants.

Wanda’s also super embarrassed about masturbation, despite having to do it so often in her marriage just to get off at all. When you catch her in the act one day, she’s blushing profusely and apologizing, wishing the ground beneath her would swallow her whole.

What she isn’t expecting, however, is for you to pull up a chair and tell her to keep going. “I- really?” She asks, blushing even more at the thought of you watching her. You nod, getting comfortable, and she hesitates at first. “Go on baby, touch your pretty pussy for me. Show me how to make you feel good.” Your words go straight to her core and despite how embarrassed she feels, she can’t deny that the whole thing is turning her on.

With shaky fingers, she obeys, rubbing circles over her clit while you watch, eyes glued to her wet center. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this,” you say breathily, giving her the confidence to pick up her pace and slide a finger inside. She fucks herself under your lustful gaze, her shyness dissipating with every thrust of her fingers. The wet sounds of her pussy make you moan and she comes undone at the sound, trembling as she arches off the bed.

You praise her after and tell her how good she was for you, then reward her with your mouth. You make her tell you what she was thinking about and heat flushes through her body when she responds. Describing her fantasies to you feels slightly humiliating but it only makes her wetter under your touch.

I’m up and barking for repressed milf!Wanda ❤️

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #milf!wanda maximoff #alexa answers #🚀 anon

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fiastomatocheek · 24 hours ago

Text

WHERE IT HURTS ME THE MOST

requested: yes | req: okay so my idea is reader and will are arguing and she's got a short temper and so will is kinda dialing in on insults related to that. and i guess to make this make sense, she had a past boyfriend that didn't treat her the best so her anger is a coping mechanism and a safety net for herself so she doesn't get hurt again but he's never seen her cry at all (about that situation or anything else) in the time they've been dating. and they're just going back and forth and back and forth and finally will says something like ‘well i get why your ex left because you're so stubborn and angry all the time. if you got your anger under control maybe some good things would happen to you’ and it just breaks her. like she stops fighting and when she goes to leave, will sees the tears welling in her eyes and he knows immediately that he fucked up. and she isolates herself and no one hears from her for days until finally will finds her at her apartment and he apologizes or something like that? please and thank you!

pair: will smith x f!reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, romance.

warnings: past emotional abuse, toxic ex mentioned, yelling/argument, emotional breakdown, isolation, hurtful dialogue, emotional vulnerability, but ends with comfort and healing.

summary: you only asked will for one thing is that to check in after practice. it wasn’t a demand. just a simple gesture. but when a small concern turns into a spiraling argument, will crosses a line he never should’ve touched. and the moment he sees you cry for the first time, he realizes exactly how much damage he’s done.

fia’s note: never been in a toxic relationship before *praying this kind of love never finds me* so i’m not really sure what else to add, but i hope you enjoy it anywayyy. love you all lots!! my fav little 🍅s. alsooo i’d love if some of you could recommend me a few will smith angst fics to read, i’m in the mood to suffer a little. and i’m currently open to dad!luke hughes requests too!! he doesn’t get nearly enough dad delulu content on here and i desperately need it.

tagging team fia ! — @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @dancerbailey3 @mashmashi @kell9rs @nokiaholland

fia’s masterlist | join fia’s taglist | fic discussion

“Hey,”

Will greeted casually, wiping his damp forehead with the edge of his shirt after tossing his gear bag down by the entryway.

“Hi,” you replied flatly.

He paused, glancing at you. “Everything… okay?”

“I don’t know. Did something happen after practice? You usually text.”

He looked up from unlacing his shoes.

“Yeah, sorry. Coach kept us longer than usual.”

You leaned against the counter, arms crossed.

“You still could’ve sent a text. Just… anything.”

He let out a breath, already heading toward the kitchen.

“Babe, I was busy. And you know I don’t take my phone on the ice.”

“I know,” you said quietly.

“But it’s not about the rink. It’s about after. You had it once practice ended. You just didn’t use it.”

“You’re mad?”

“I’m not mad,”

You said, eventhough the frustration in your tone told a different story.

“I just… it would’ve taken two seconds to text ‘I’m okay’. That’s all I needed.”

Will tossed his hoodie over the back of the chair.

“I was exhausted. I didn’t think you’d be this upset about it.”

“That’s the problem,” you snapped.

“You didn’t think. About me. About how I sit here wondering if something happened. If you got hurt. I know it sounds stupid, but it matters to me.”

“It’s not stupid,”

He said quickly, but the way he rubbed his temples suggested he didn’t quite mean it.

“It’s just… I don’t get why it’s always a big thing.”

“It’s not always a big thing,” you said, voice rising.

“You just make me feel like I’m asking for too much everytime I express something that bothers me.”

“Because you come at me like I’ve already failed.”

You stared at him. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you actually listened when I talk.”

Will’s jaw clenched. “I do listen, I do. But you’re always so angry. Every conversation turns into a fight.”

And just like that, your anger cut deeper than he probably intended.

You turned away, trying to collect yourself.

But Will didn’t stop.

“It’s like you’re constantly looking for something to go wrong. I come home and you’re already on edge, like you’re bracing for a war that hasn’t even started.”

“Maybe because I am bracing,”

You snapped, spinning back toward him.

“You don’t know what it’s like to live in a state of defense. To have someone chip away at you every fucking day until the only thing left is armor.”

Will’s expression now is confused, overwhelmed, cornered.

“I’m not your ex, babe.”

“I never said you were. But sometimes you make me feel like I have to prepare for the worst. Like if I don’t say something now, I’ll end up swallowed by silence, again.”

He scoffed. “You can’t compare me to him everytime you’re upset.”

“I’m not! I’m just trying to explain why I am the way I am!”

“Then maybe work on changing it.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, frustration bleeding through,

“You always expect me to cater to your triggers, your past, your baggage but when do you take responsibility for how you react?”

“I am taking responsibility,” you said.

“I’m telling you what I need so we don’t spiral like this. And you’re acting like I’m attacking you.”

Will stepped back, tone turning cold.

“You know what? Fine. Be angry. Be stubborn. That’s all you ever do anyway.”

You flinched.

And then he said it. The most hurtful things you’ve ever heard.

“Well, I get why your ex left. Because you’re so stubborn and angry all the time. If you got your anger under control, maybe some good things would happen to you.”

A breath. A heart broken.

All of the pain hit all at once, your body stilled, your face blanked. Your eyes went glassy, your fists clenched at your sides.

Will’s face dropped as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Wait no, I didn’t mean that, I—”

But it was too late.

Your voice cracked as you whispered,

“You were supposed to be different.”

You turned, grabbed your keys, and… left.

It’s had been three days eversince that day you left his apartment, eversince the you hadn’t answered a single message.

Not the texts. Not the voicemails. Not even the flowers he sent that sat untouched outside your apartment door.

Will was unraveling, everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the way your face shattered, how your mouth opened in shock, but no words came, your eyes filled with tears those tears you never let him see before you slipped out the door without another word.

Now, soaked from the rain, he used the spare key you gave him months ago, stepping into your apartment with a heart heavy enough to drown him this time.

You were there.

When you looked up and saw him, you didn’t move.

“Please…”

He said quietly, shutting the door behind him.

“Just… let me say this.”

You looked so tired. So hollow.

Will knelt beside the couch, water dripping from his head onto the floor.

“I know… I know I said the one thing I should’ve never said. But I need you to understand… I wasn’t angry at you. I was scared. Scared I was failing you. And instead of being patient, I chose to be cruel.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, lips trembling.

“You’ve told me what your anger protects. I should’ve respected that. I should’ve seen that what I call ‘yelling’ is really just the sound of you trying not to drown.”

He hesitated, then reached for your hand so gentle, barely a brush.

“I love you. Not in the convenient way. Not just when things are easy. I love you when you’re quiet, soft. But I also love you when you’re loud and afraid. I love you when you’re angry because I know that anger comes from pain you never deserved.”

Will moved slowly, sitting beside you, careful not to push too far.

“You don’t have to protect yourself from me. Not with words. Not with walls. I’m not going anywhere. No matter how loud it gets. No matter how hard it feels. I’m yours. Even when it’s not easy.”

“You are not too much. You were just never given the right space to be everything you are.”

Silence.

“And I want to be that space.”

You looked at him, crumpled and broken, and you believed him, your body leaned forward. Your hand reached for his. And when you finally pulled him into you, burying your face in his shoulder, he held you like the home he promised to be.

“I don’t need you to be okay all the time,”

Will added, voice shaking a little now.

“I just need you. However you are. However you come.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair.

“I’m so sorry.”

#will smith #will smith imagine #will smith imagines #will smith x reader #will smith x you #will smith x y/n #will smith hockey #will smith fic #will smith fluff #will smith nhl #will smith angst #will smith hockey imagine #will smith hockey imagines #will smith hockey x you #will smith hockey x reader #will smith hockey angst #will smith hockey fluff

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withluvkay · 3 days ago

Text

Your Life’s Not Boring—You’re Just on Your Phone Too Much

If you’ve been feeling glued to your phone—especially apps like TikTok and Instagram—you’re not alone. So many of us are stuck in this loop, and it can seriously mess with our energy, motivation, and overall health.

One thing I’ve struggled most with lately is comparison. Feeling like what I do just isn’t... enough. If you’ve felt that too, this post is for us both. A little reminder that:

✨ You are enough, just as you are. ✨ You’ve survived every hard day, and your inner child and I are so proud of you. Don't ever forget how far you've come as a person! If all you did was make your bed and hydrate today, that's a win worth celebrating. You're doing just fine, and you'll do all that you wish to on your own divine timing.

And yes, your life isn’t boring. You might just be too distracted to see how beautiful it really is. So instead of escaping it, let’s try to romanticize it!

10 Ways to Romanticize Your Life & Be More Present

Wake up a little earlier. It doesn’t have to be 5 AM (unless that’s your thing). Even an hour earlier can give you quiet time to get things done without distractions.

Take an "everything shower." These are pretty meditative for me in a way. I like to imagine the water washing off all my stress and stagnant energy I may have accumulated throughout the day. Like a reset button!

Make a breakfast you’d actually get out of bed early for. Pancakes? Fruit? Whatever makes your inner child happy.

Play jazz or soft instrumentals while doing everyday activities. Instant cozy vibes.

Read outside. Sitting on your porch or even by a window gives you that vitamin D and a fresh perspective.

Find a screen-less hobby you enjoy. Try crochet, painting, poetry, LEGO kits, pottery, etc. Block-building kits are my fave—they’re so fun and satisfying. Just remember to take breaks and stretch!

Re-watch something comforting or start something new. That show you keep skipping past might become your next obsession.

Connect. If you’ve been stuck in your room all day, talk to someone. Call a friend, hug your pet, or chat with family. A quick convo with my mom always boosts my mood!

Learn something new! When was the last time you went out of your way to explore something you didn’t already know? (and nope, school doesn’t count.) Take a moment to find a subject you’ve never looked into or dive deeper into one you already know a little about. Pick up on a new language, study an unfamiliar culture, or even try learning a random skill just for fun. Expanding your mind keeps life feeling fresh and exciting.

Travel (if you can). I can't stress this one enough!! Even just getting out of town for a single 24 hours can give you a whole new perspective. A change of scenery does wonders, especially when life feels repetitive. It doesn't have to be far, either. You can travel to the next city over and explore what it's like there!

Remember: Social media is NOT real life. That influencer who’s always partying in Miami with a closet full of designer bags? You’re seeing their highlight reel, not the full picture. Some even goes as far as faking luxury lifestyles for the views. Don’t compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s curated feed. At the end of the day, it's all for the aesthetics/entertainment.

Be gentle with yourself. You're doing better than you think, angel. xo, Kay 🪽

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puck-luck · 2 days ago

Note

Can I get a chai latte with cinnamon (thigh riding, dirty talk & like a slight embarrassment kink) and peppermint (enemies to lovers) for Trevor Zegras?

“I thought you said last time was the last time,” Trevor goads from beneath you. His hands are planted on your hips, guiding your movement. He rocks you forward, but prevents you from getting the full pleasure available. “And now, here you are, fucking yourself on my thigh like a needy little bitch.”

“Trevor,” you chide, flashing a warning glare at him.

“What? You are,” Trevor says with a big smile. “It’s pathetic. You always think you’re too good for me, but then when you need someone to put you in your place, you come crawling back to me.”

“What does that say about you?” you bite back, swatting Trevor’s hands away from your body. “You’re my last choice.”

“It says that I’m consistent and loyal,” Trevor laughs. “And that I’m the best you can get.”

You nearly growl at how fucking rude and smug he is. So what if it’s 2am on a Saturday and you came from the bar? So what if there were no hotties there, so you texted Trevor? It doesn’t mean you’re stooping so low. He’s not the hero here.

He’s not the hero because he can’t even commit to giving you his cock. He welcomed you into his apartment, but then he’d caught your wrist when you went to touch his length. He set you on one thigh and flexed, bouncing his knee until you started leaning into it.

“After all, you’re bouncing on my thigh like it’s my cock,” Trevor tells you. He pats your hip. “You’re so greedy. I can feel how wet you are through these panties.”

“You should take advantage of it,” you say, laying your palms flat on his stomach and using the leverage to roll your hips in exaggerated movements.

“But then I wouldn’t get to see how red you are. You’re glowing, baby, all flustered and humiliated. You like it when I make you blush. That’s why you keep coming back to me, pretty girl.” Trevor slaps your ass, punctuating his words. “Nobody else puts you in your place like I do. They make you feel all pretty and perfect, but you want to feel your face get all hot when I call you names.”

“Well, I like being pretty too, you know,” you tell Trevor.

“Of course you do, everybody likes to be praised, but it’s so much better when I tell you that your holes belong to me and I choose when to fuck them raw.”

His expression is so self-assured, so proud. You whack his chest with the tips of your fingers, berating him half-heartedly.

“You know what else? I can feel how wet you are, but I can smell it too,” Trevor continues. “You’re dripping wet. Fucking cumslut, needy whore.”

The names are the worst part because they’re what really gets you going. Trevor speaks down to you, but he does it with such precision. He really has been hooking up with you for a while, keeping track of the things you enjoy.

“Once you come all over my thigh, I’m going to fuck you so hard that all my neighbors can hear you through the walls. They’ll know how slutty you are, baby. So easy, and I’ve barely touched you. Keep it up, I want to see your legs shake because you feel so good humping my quad.”

#1 year of puck-luck!#andy writes anything🍄#trevor zegras #trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fanfiction #trevor zegras x reader #tz blurb #tz11

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chock-and-bates · 2 days ago

Note

i’m the anon who asked about mpreg in spark’s fly. do you perhaps have more snippet for the sequel? (no pressure. ily!)

because you said ily 🥰 here is the rest of the scene from the original snippet-

Charles stomps out of the bathroom, until he’s standing in front of Max on the bed, glaring down at him with his hand on his hips.

“I’m mad,” he spits out, “Because this is the last race I’ll be able to attend this season and I came to see my mate, my husband, the father of my pup, win the fucking championship. But instead you’re not even trying.”

There it is. Guilt chews at his heart, but Max tries to keep it off his face.

“Thanks a lot Charles,” he says, bitterly sarcastic, “I really appreciate the words of support.”

“Don’t try to lie to me Max Emilian,” Charles is having none of it, “I know you, all of you. You are not fucking trying. If you had left it all out on the track and still got P3 I would not be angry. But instead I came all this way, dealt with all of this, just to watch you sabotage yourself and give up.”

Called out, Max can’t keep looking at him. He lowers his eyes in shame, his cheeks hot.

They’re quiet for a long moment, until he hears Charles give a deep sigh. Soon his mate joins him on the bed, apparently not truly angry enough to keep his distance in the face of Max’s distress.

Charles presses close to his side and Max immediately takes the invitation, wrapping an arm around Charles to draw him in, nuzzling in close to properly scent him, finally encasing his omega in his own pheromones. His free hand finds its way to the baby bump, caressing it in a motion that is meant to soothe, though if it’s for him, Charles, or their pup he cannot say.

“So possessive,” Charles murmurs into his hair as he’s scented, “Everyone already knows I’m yours, chéri. They can see your mark, see the pup you put in me. Still not enough for you?”

“Never,” Max growls, finally ceasing the scenting to come to rest with his lips against Charles' mating mark. He’d love to sink his teeth in, reopen it, make it scar even more.

But he won’t, not until after the birth. He won’t let himself do anything that will put Charles’ body under unnecessary stress.

Max supposes he should take that line of thinking and expand it to avoiding any unnecessary stress for Charles.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles from where he’s still buried in the crook of his neck, easier to say when he doesn’t have to make eye contact. “My head has been fucked this weekend. Everything has felt shit and I’m just ready for it all to be over so I can focus on you and the pup. But you’re right, I should have tried harder.”

Another sigh, “I do not like seeing you like this, you know?” Hesitant fingers comb through his hair, “If this is about… the agreement…We- we do not have to do it this weekend, chéri. Even if you win, we can wait. Maybe that will help you focus.”

Max scrunches his eyes shut, can’t bring himself to respond as he curls around Charles even tighter.

His mate can truly read him like a book.

“No,” he finally says, “We promised we’d wait until I won the championship. If I win tomorrow, we will do it. And if you want to see me win… then I will win.” He finally lifts his head, presses a lingering kiss to Charles cheek, “I promised I would give you everything, baby. I will give you this.”

Purrs begin to erupt from Charles' chest as he turns to rub his nose against Max’s in a little nuzzle, “Thank you, alpha. I know you can do it.”

“Of course I can do it,” Max smirks, “But I think I could use extra encouragement…” His hand on the bump slides down suggestively, creeping between Charles thighs.

“You are so greedy,” Charles scolds, but his breathless tone is encouraging. So is the way he spreads his legs.

“Come on, baby,” Max croons, his fingers dipping into Charles panties, “Having you on Saturday nights has been the only thing I’ve enjoyed about you sitting out this year. Let’s take advantage one last time, yes?”

#asks #sparks fly #writing tag #snippets #pregnancy sequel #lestappen

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merrybloomwrites · 3 days ago

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When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 6)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: An unexpected drop leads to an opportunity for reconciliation.

Previous Chapters: one, two, three, four, five

Word Count: 1.8K

Tags/CW: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, omega drop, scenting

AN: Quick heads up that chapters make take longer for now, I’ve got a lot of family things/ travel coming up. But I enjoy writing this so it should never take too long!

Anyway, hope you enjoy this next chapter!

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“Call Harry and Zayn. Get them back here. Now.”

Liam immediately does as Louis says while Niall gets your fallen key card, using it to open the door to your room. The four of you rush inside and Louis goes to place you on your bed. But when he tries to pull away, you unconsciously grab onto his shirt and release a distressed whine.

“Okay, I won’t leave,” he says and sits next to you on the bed.

“Louis, what do we do?” Niall asks, concern clear on his face.

“I think I’m going to bring her out of the drop.”

“Isn’t dropping good for omegas?”

“Not like this. Sometimes they’ll go under on purpose, and it’s like a really good rest. But clearly something bad sent her into this one so it’s not the same.”

“They’re on their way back,” Liam says as he hangs up the phone.

“Good,” Louis says as he adjusts in bed, pulling you close to his side and encouraging you to tuck into his neck in order to scent him. “Y/N, I need you to come up. At least for a moment. C’mon love, come back to us now, okay?”

The words start to drift into your mind, and your brain becomes less fuzzy. The panic you felt diminishes the longer you spend tucked into Louis’ side, breathing in his calming pheromones. You hear a door open and close, and more familiar alphas surround you. Finally you’re recovered enough to fully come up from the drop.

You take a moment to look at your surroundings, and you realize how much you’re clinging to Louis. Embarrassed by this, you pull away, but in your current state you do so clumsily, quickly. A look crosses Louis face and you know he’s feeling hurt, thinking you don’t want to be anywhere near him.

“Y/N?” Harry starts cautiously from beside you. “Are you alright? Can you tell us what happened?”

It’s almost too much, having their complete undivided attention. But isn’t that what you’ve wanted the whole time? Them to care about you? And by the clear worry on their faces, it seems you finally have their focus.

“There was a crowd,” you answer. “I’m used to getting recognized, but I’ve never been swarmed by fans before. There were so many of them, and they were all shouting, and then I realized some were alphas that I don’t know. It made me panic.”

“Of course it did,” Zayn says. “It’d make any of us panic.”

“You probably shouldn’t be going out alone,” Liam says. “Not while we’re on tour.”

“Trust me, I’m not making that mistake again.”

“Do you feel better now?” Niall asks.

“Yea, but I’m still a little out of it, honestly.”

“Do you want to drop again?” Louis asks.

You debate this. A planned drop with trusted alphas is always nice. And while you trust him and Zayn and Harry, you’re still hurt from the way they treated you.

As if sensing your inner debate, Louis says, “Y/N, I want to apologize for how cold I’ve been to you. I should have welcomed you and I didn’t. I know that I’ve hurt you, and I want to make that up to you. I understand if you don’t feel comfortable dropping around me again.”

“I think we all have something to apologize for,” Liam adds. “We were so focused on maintaining the status quo that we didn’t even consider your feelings.”

“I’m sorry too,” Harry says. “We shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“There’s no excuse for the way we treated you,” Zayn chimes in.

“It really hurt,” you say. “But I understand why you all did it. I mean, I really was just thrown in here and told to be your omega. That’s not fair to you guys.”

“Still, we could have been nicer about it,” Louis says.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Niall shifting awkwardly. When you turn to him he blurts out, “I was scared. And I guess jealous? Or jealous of what could happen? Like if you joined the pack, then the alphas focus would be all on you. I’ve just gotten used to the dynamic we’ve always had. But I should have just talked to you or the alphas about that.”

“We’ve all gone about this the wrong way,” Harry says. “And I think it’s safe to say we’re all sorry for that. But we want to do better. To be better packmates for you. I know it will take time, but Y/N, I’d really like to try again and do it right this time.”

Once glance around the room shows the others all nodding along.

“I think we can try again,” you reply. Yes, it had been a bad start. They’d made mistakes. But they’re here owning up to that and willing to do better. You can practically smell their regret.

“Pack cuddle?” Liam asks, a hopeful smile on his face and his arms outstretched. The rest of them turn to you to see your reaction. You nod your head and the five boys all climb on the bed surrounding you, holding you.

Their scents fill your senses, calming you, making you feel protected, cared for, like part of the pack. They’re soothing, and overwhelming in a good way that makes your brain start to go fuzzy again.

“You can drop if you want to,” Harry says.

“We’ll be here to protect you,” Zayn adds.

“All of you? Stay?” You ask timidly.

“All of us,” Louis says firmly.

You look at Niall and Liam, needing they’re confirmation as well.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Liam says.

“Promise,” Niall adds.

And you believe them. Believe that they’ll stay, and protect you. And that they want to be there, not that they feel any sort of obligation.

“Will you scent me?” You ask them.

“If that’s what you want, of course,” Harry replies.

“It is,” you answer, your voice firm.

As pack alpha, everyone looks to Louis. Tradition dictates he would be the first to lean in, and so he does, his nose gently rubbing against your scent gland. You start to go limp in his arms as his woodsy scent surrounds you. It’s a nice feeling, finally being able to let go after being on high alert for so long.

Once he’s scented you thoroughly he pulls back, allowing you other pack members to have a turn. Even as betas, Niall and Liam have faint scents, ones that you’ll be able to smell better as you grow closer to them.

Zayn is the last to go, and once you're finally surrounded by the scents of all of the boys, you let yourself slip all the way into a peaceful drop.

They notice the moment it happens, how you go lax in Zayn’s arms.

“She’s under, right?” Niall asks.

“She is, yea,” Louis replies. One of his hands rests on your back, and the other goes to reach for the beta, knowing that he needs some reassurance too. It’s a big change for him as well and Louis wants to make sure he’s taken care of. That every member of his pack is taken care of, feels secure, protected, loved.

Because as he looks at the five others crowding this bed, he feels complete. It hits him like a brick, this sense that you are the piece he never knew was missing. He finally realizes that accepting you doesn’t mean cutting any of the boys away, but rather adding another companion. And with a life as crazy as theirs, having steady companions to be there for each other is the goal.

You start shifting on the bed, and everyone watches you closely, wanting to help but unsure what it is you’re trying to do. Finally you get close to Louis and he helps you into his arms. A moment later Louis picks up on the calming pheromones you’re emitting, and knows without a doubt that you’re meant to be with them.

“Her instincts are amazing,” Louis says.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks.

“I was just thinking about everything and I guess I was letting off some big emotions and even in a drop she recognized that,” he explains. He sits there holding you before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. The boys are confused by the rumbling sound they hear, until they realize you’re purring.

They’re faces light up at that, and they know that they want to hear that sound as often as possible, and will do whatever they have to do to make you this happy.

You remain in the drop for almost an hour, occasionally shifting until finding another one of the boys to cuddle with. They each hold you, and whisper apologies and promises that they hope you’ll hear.

When you start to show signs of coming back up Zayn makes a quick call for some room service so you can all have a meal together. Finally, you open your eyes and look at the scene around you. You’re resting against Harry, the four others surrounding you. For the first time in months, you feel safe and wanted, and truly rested.

“How are you feeling?” Harry asks.

“Really good,” you reply simply.

There’s a knock at the door and you tense up, causing the others to quickly reassure and protect you.

“It’s room service,” Zayn explains. “Thought you might be hungry.”

He stands to bring in the food, and you realize he’s right. You haven’t eaten in hours, the others likely haven’t as well. The six of you gather around the table and dig in. You’re surprised to see a couple of your favorite foods there, and Zayn shows that he once again has been paying more attention than you realize.

For once, the meal together isn’t awkward. Maybe you’re all just in good moods after clearing the air. There’s a certain hopeful energy, like maybe this can all work out.

But there’s a little voice in the back of your brain telling you to be cautious. Your last pack was a family pack. But this one is a relationship pack. That’s a lot of different dynamics to take care of. It will take some hard work from everyone to make sure everyone is happy and cared for.

You’re willing to put in this effort, and if what the boys have said today is true, then they seem more than willing as well. You haven’t fully forgiven them for how they treated you, not yet. But you’re happy to give them the chance to make it up to you.

Today may have started terribly, but it ended much better than most others since joining the band. Finally, progress has been made and you’re cautiously optimistic about the future.

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AN: Thank you for reading! If there’s anything you’d like to see in this series, please let me know as I love hearing your ideas!

#harry styles x reader #one direction fanfiction #one direction x reader #louis tomlinson x reader #niall horan x reader #liam payne x reader #zayn malik x reader #alpha beta omega #omegaverse

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kiribaku-queen · 20 hours ago

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Our Final Goodbye Pt.2

Feel good/comforting, little angst

Bakugou x reader, Midoriya x reader

Word count: 14k

Summary: Who knew disappearing from someone’s life was going to be so miserable. Were you going to get your life back on track? Or were you going to mull over your relationship for the rest of your life?

A/N: Hello? I’m back? Kind of? A lot has happened these couple of years I’ve been gone. I moved AGAIN to another country; so I am now living in South Korea. I experienced my first family death and first long term relationship breakup. I know you guys have been DMing me and commenting about how much you needed a second part… (sorry for the long delay) this is for you guys and more than anything a little something for me as well. Enjoy! Hopefully I can get into writing again :) Happy 5 year anniversary to me!

Sequel to part 1, you can read here

Fuck your life.

Why did this have to happen to you? Why do all the bad things happen to you? What could you have possibly done to be treated this way? Were you a horrible person in your past life? Does karma just hate you? Or were you actually a horrible human being and just didn’t know it?

Life after the break up was… difficult to say the least. Everyone talks about how much you can grow as a person after a break up, how a break up can actually be a positive thing. But no one warns you about how actually insane you can get; driven by sadness and depression.

At first, you tried to deny it. Deny that you weren’t okay. You tried to convince yourself that the break up didn’t actually hurt you as much as it did. After moving yourself all the way across the globe, you decided that you wouldn’t let this break up with Bakugou get to you. You put a smile on your face, at least tried to. No one could see how much you were hurting inside if you just kept a smile on your face. But everyone who knew you, which wasn’t many, could see right through you.

“(y/n)?” Deku had called out your name, but you continued to stare out into the distance. Water was overfilling the cup in your hands. You couldn’t feel it but then again, you couldn’t really feel anything nowadays. Deku stopped unboxing your books and rested his arms on his knees, properly turning to you.

“(y/n)… (y/n)!” he finally snapped you out of your trance. You slowly turned your head towards the male’s voice, still not grasping what was going on around you.

“I think that’s enough water…” he pointed out. You quickly looked at your hands and indeed there was enough water in the cup. You mentally sighed and stopped the faucet. With a cheeky smile, you dumped a little bit of water back into the sink and offered it to Deku.

“Sorry. And thanks again for helping me move in. I know you’re busy and all…” you trailed off at the end. Deku couldn’t help but accept the cup with saddened and pitiful eyes. And that’s what you hated. You didn’t want the pity. You didn't want people to feel bad about your situation. What for? This was your relationship, your problem to deal with. That’s why you decided that you were going to wear a smile on your face no matter what; to show people that you were in fact okay. After all, you were the one to technically break up with him. You did this to yourself; you knew the outcome. So, there’s no reason for you to be sad since you were the one who initiated it.

“You don’t have to hide it, you know,” Deku blurted out after taking a sip of water. The ‘smile’ on your face faltered but you quickly put it back up.

“What are you-”

“I think it’s worse that you’re hiding it. It won’t make you feel any better. It’s okay to mourn. Actually, to properly process your emotions, you should-”

“I don’t need you to tell me how to ‘properly process my emotions’” you suddenly got angry, causing Deku to freeze in place. “If I say I’m okay, then I’m okay. Don’t try to tell me how to feel or what I should be feeling. You’re not the one in this situation so you have no say in anything. If you just want to run your mouth, then I don’t need your help. You can leave.” You pointed to the door, gesturing him to get out. Deku put both hands up in defense, carefully trying not to cause you anymore distress.

“I spoke out of place, I’m sorry. I just… I’m worried about you,” he started. It was too late. The tears were already filling your eyes and the anger inside you kept bubbling up. If he didn’t leave this instant, there’s no telling what the demon inside you would say or do. You took a deep breath in and slowly released, hoping that would calm you down.

“I understand. But it’s probably best you leave,” you tried to tell him in the nicest way you could possibly say, given how you were containing all your anger.

“(y/n), let me help you. You don’t have to deal with this by yourself,” the hero turned comforter tried saying.

“I’m not asking for your help. I’m asking you to leave,” you once again gestured toward the door. Knowing that he lost this one, he made his way towards the door but couldn’t fully allow himself to leave. He gripped the door handle but only rested it there.

“Call me if you need me. I’ll be by your side every step of the way,” was Deku’s last goodbye before leaving your apartment.

You waited until the door had completely shut to let out a small sigh of relief. But in doing that, something uncomfortable rested in your chest and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away. You tried to beat your chest to get rid of it. You tried taking deep breaths, pacing around the room, drinking water. Nothing was working. Everything you were doing was probably making it worse. The feeling in your chest was so tight and uncomfortable that you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You felt yourself caving in. The sensation was physically pushing you back until you were on the edge of your bed. You collapsed back on your bed, hand clenching your chest as you curled into yourself.

And then you sobbed.

Once you started crying, you couldn’t stop. You had thought that you cried it all out before, that there were no more tears left to cry. How wrong you were. The reality of the break up was starting to hit you. And the reality was, he was no longer in your life. The man of your dreams. The man who you talked about starting a future with. The man who you could be yourself around. The man who knew your deepest darkest secrets. The man who would comfort you and never judge you for even the smallest things. He was so perfect in your eyes and you were convinced that you would be together till the end of time. How could it all have ended in such short notice? You thought you had given yourself enough preparation by distancing yourself, by slowly accepting the fact, but the true fact is, you weren’t going to be over him for a long time.

You questioned yourself a lot. Were you allowed to feel this way? Were you allowed to be upset when you were the one who broke it off? Why was it always you that bad things happened? He was a good guy. Such a good guy. You wanted him and you’ve always chosen him. So why was it that you always ended up with the short end of the stick?

Some moments of the day were okay… okay, as in there were no tears. But just because there were no tears didn’t mean that you were feeling better. If you weren’t crying your eyes raw, then you would stare up at the ceiling. Sometimes you were thinking about him, sometimes your head was empty as you watched your day pass away. You couldn’t find an appetite so there wasn’t a need for food. You also weren’t thirsty so no need for water either. No food and no water going into your body just means that nothing can come out. Great, you didn’t have any motivation to get up from your bed anyway.

From sunrise until sunset, you watched as the grossly, warm sunset fade into darkness. And there you were again, alone in the dark with your thoughts. What a dangerous place to be… alone with your thoughts. And what better place to be alone with your thoughts than the pure darkness. During the daytime, your thoughts were at surface level: how you were just sad in general and how you don’t think you can escape from your sadness. When night came, your sadness reached a new level of concerning. You started reevaluating your entire life existence. Started thinking about every bad core memory that’s ever happened to you. Each memory hurt a different part of you and then you think… all those memories, all those horrible times framed who you are now. God… that’s why you act the way you act, the way you think, the way you treat life? And then you continue to think about those memories, almost as if you were purposely making yourself sad.

Little surprise, you weren’t basking in your sadness alone. Despite kicking him out of your apartment that day, Deku kept coming back. And you let him back in. But he never talked about what happened. He never acted strange or out of character. He acted as if it never happened. But you couldn’t act that way. You treated him horribly, even though at the time, you were trying so hard not to turn back into that horrible monster that hurts everybody. But you just figured out that you could never change.

“Do you want to get up and do something?” he asks you gently from the side of the bed. He’s kneeling on the ground, elbows resting on the bed so that he could be leveled with you. Meanwhile, you were curled up in your forever ball, the only comfort you could find. You stared into the abyss without answer but Deku got all the answers he needed.

“Maybe we should get some fresh air,” he suggested. Again, no answer.

“Can I at least open a window?” that only earned him a frown. Right, so that’s a no.

“Fine. If you only do one thing today, then that’s take a shower,” he said with a sterner tone. All the other things he said were suggestions but it doesn’t seem like he was asking with this request. It was more demanding if anything.

“I bet you feel real gross right now.” He teased, but he wasn’t wrong about that. Straight on the nose, actually. Speaking of nose, your nose and your whole face was feeling dry and oily at the same time. The tangles in your hair, you know are going to be a pain in the ass to take out. And honestly, you didn’t want your hair to get matted. That would be impossible to take out. Maybe a shower didn’t sound so bad afterall…

“If you do one thing today, let that be a shower. Come, let me help you,” Deku reached out his hand. You stared at it. Should you, or should you not? Deku’s hands were laid out gently, only waiting for acceptance. But looked like it would be okay if it was rejected once more. His small gesture was more than just trying to help you take a shower. If you took his hand, you would be accepting the next steps of moving on. If you took his hand, that means you were ready to venture on your healing journey. And he was right. You felt gross, you needed to get out of bed. You knew this. You know you have to move on. You know you have to start living your life. But why were the first baby steps so hard? Help was staring at you in the face, literally reaching their hand out for you, so why were you finding it so difficult to accept help?

Frustration was clawing inside of you. Just fucking do it! You want to forget about him. You want to get better. You want to take that shower. Your hand felt heavy as you reached for Deku’s out stretched hand. He gently helped you up, supporting you from behind. Because as soon as you got up, regardless if you were going slow and taking your time, you felt dizziness hitting you straight in the face. God, you literally felt like the room was spinning. Was the room spinning or were you physically spinning? The only reason why you didn’t topple over was because of Deku.

“Woah, I got you,” he was surprised but held a strong grip around your waist. This is what happens when you are in bed for too long and decide to all of a sudden get up. You couldn’t help but clutch your head in agony. The pounding against your head felt like your brain was working on overtime. It was unbearable. Maybe a shower and some food would help…

With much success, you found yourself under the scolding hot water of your shower. Deku insisted he help, even more than he should really. But you declined his offer and undressed yourself. For a minute, you just stood under the running water. Too many thoughts were running in your mind again. Bakugou. Uraraka. The party. Them kissing. Bakugou. Your memories together. The vacation. Deku. Bakugou again. How could one mind be occupied with only one person? It’s not like you absolutely fell for this person and thought he was the man of your dreams…

The hot steam filled the bathroom, eventually leaking out into the rest of your apartment. You had to snap out of it eventually. Taking a step out of the fresh shower, you wrapped your hair up in one towel and draped another one over your body. Thankfully, the shower and closet area were closed off from the rest of your apartment. So even if you were naked, no one could see you getting out of the shower and getting dressed. You changed into fresh, clean, comfortable clothes. Clothes that will eventually stick to your body again once you get situated back in your bed.

The door to your combined bathroom and closet opened and you finally reappeared in front of Deku, who was surprisingly waiting for you on the couch with a table full of Chinese takeaway. You paused in your tracks at the sight. The shower was refreshing, you’ll give it that. But now with the smell of Chinese takeaway filling your apartment and your senses, the realization of how hungry you were was now smacking you in the face. It didn’t help that your stomach couldn’t stop grumbling, especially after the lack of food you’ve had lately. Then you took the moment to look around to find that your apartment was spotless. Your bed was freshly made and fluffed up, ready to be snug in again. Nothing was on the floor. No dishes in the sink. Did Deku do all of this? When did he have time to do this? And when did he have time to order takeout?

“When did you…?” you started to ask. Deku rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

“As soon as you hopped in the shower. I hope it’s not too much. But I know you haven’t really eaten that much and Chinese is your favorite. Plus, I was kind of craving it too so I just ordered. Sorry if I was going overboard with the cleaning. Thought you would feel better if a fresh you came out to a fresh apartment and-” he rambled on. He only paused when you came up to him silently and rested your head against his chest. Your hands remained on your side but laid your weight against him, guilt washing over you.

“Sorry.” You muttered. Deku’s expression softened. He pat your head and engulfed you in a hug. A hug you desperately needed. Deku has been by your side and taking care of you this entire time. How do you repay him? You yelled at him. Kicked him out of your apartment. Wouldn’t answer him when he was only trying to do his best. Why were you such a mess?

“Hey, hey,” he gently whispered, pulling you in tighter when he heard the small whimpers coming out of your mouth. “What are we crying for?”

“You’ve been too good to me,” you confessed. “I don’t understand how you’re still here. All I’ve been is mean to you.”

“I’d want someone there with me if I was going through something like this too.”

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have acted as cruelly as me,” your voice trailed and cracked off at the end. The truth of how you acted was hitting you even harder saying it out loud. You have been cruel to him. If you were in his shoes, you probably would have walked out and left him alone to bask in his own feelings. But he didn’t. Why?

“Because I know this is not who you truly are,” he answered as if he could read your thoughts. “And I know that you’re going through a period of grief. Why would I leave when you need a friend the most?”

“You still want to be my friend after all this?” you asked. You felt a hard knuckle hit the top of your head. “Enough of that. Of course I do. Now, if you want me to accept your apology, you have to eat with me.”

And just like that, you found yourself on the couch, slurping up your favorite lo mein noodles while Deku occupied the other side of the couch, immersed in the random TV show that was playing. The flavors of the noodles hit you with full force and you wanted to cry again, but because of how good it was. How long has it been since you had a proper meal? Even if you were putting something into your body, it was either water or bits and pieces of Deku’s food. But never enough to keep you full or even deem as a proper meal. It took some willpower to stop yourself from scarfing down the entire box. And he got orange chicken? This guy must really have wanted you to eat.

After eating something a little more nutritious, you could feel yourself gain more energy. With more energy, came with more food for thought. As if Bakugou wasn’t constantly going through your head, you felt like you could think more clearly about the situation. And what he did… was fucked up. What HE did was cruel and unforgiving. What HE did made him the villain. He made you act like this horrible, fucked up person who doesn’t appreciate their friends.

Deku glanced up from his noodles and show to see your eyebrows bunched up and your lips permanently turned into a frown.

“(y/n)?” he called out your name. The words coming out of his mouth were going in one ear and then out the other. They were floating in the air around you without truly getting through to you. Finally, you had enough. You slammed down the box of lo mein noodles on the table and announced,

“I. am. so. angry!”

Deku blinked at your sudden actions. You huffed and puffed beside him. So much negative emotion took over your body that you started to shake with anger and eventually, those angry tears came down. As if you weren’t crying enough already, but you couldn’t stop.

“I’m so fucking angry,” you poured your heart out, wiping the hot, angry tears away.

“Alright, you’re angry. Let’s talk about it,” Deku tread carefully, in case that you were angry at him. Or even if the anger wasn’t directly aimed at him, he wanted to navigate the situation where you weren’t exploding up on him. He positioned himself to face you but didn’t make any sudden movements to touch you or anything.

“I just… I hate feeling this way. And it’s all because of him. If I never tried to help him, if only I just minded my own business, if I didn’t fall for him the way I did, this would have never happened. I hate him. God, but I hate her even more. She just had to come back into his life. And did you see the way she treated me? Or even talked to me? Pushed me aside as if I had no impact on his life. It’s so bullshit! And why the fuck couldn’t I have fought for him? I should have told her to fuck off and find some other guy. As if she could just take him back after he’s moved on with another person! I couldn’t fight her though… you saw the way Bakugou looked at her. It would have been useless to say all that only to be wrong. Then I’d look like a fool. I gave up so easily. But he didn’t fight for me either, which is the most fucked up part. It’s like he never even liked me in the first place. How could he? He was only using me as a placeholder for his grieving feelings. Of fucking course this would happen to me. Everything bad has to happen to me. It’s like fate doesn’t want me to be happy or something.” You blabbed on and on and on, letting every single emotion, every single running thought, whether it be true or not, come out. And Deku just listened. Not once did he try to interrupt. Not once did he try to interfere, tell you that you were wrong or that you were overthinking it. He waited patiently until you were done. But even when you had said everything that was weighing heavy on your chest, he stayed quiet for another beat more.

“I’d feel the same exact way if I was in your shoes,” he commented. All you could do was roll your eyes.

“You can call me crazy if you want to. I know I am.” You didn’t need him to validate your feelings. If it was anyone else, of course they would feel comforted in his words. Isn’t that the whole reason why you vent to someone? So that you could have someone on your side? At this point, you didn’t need that. What did you need…?

“You’re not crazy. I’m serious. Your partner’s dead girlfriend comes back from the dead and tries to get him back while you’re still together… sounds like a movie. Your life is a movie.”

“If my life were a movie, where’s my happy ending?” you laid your head on the side of the couch while stretching out your legs so that they were resting on top of Deku’s lap. Not that he cared anyway. Actually, he gladly accepted the weight as if it was natural that your legs be there.

“You’ll get one,” he tried to reassure you, but you weren’t so sure about that.

“How do you know? I heard some people are destined to be alone for the rest of their lives. I’m probably one of them,” you muttered the last comment to yourself. Not so subtly as you thought.

“No, you’re not,” he negated you. You gave him those ‘are-you-kidding-me’ kind of eyes.

“How can you be so sure?” you questioned him.

“I know you’re feeling like it’s the end of the world. And I may not know what its like to be in your exact shoes, but I know it gets better.” Cue the eye roll.

“Such a typical thing to say.”

“Typical, but is it not the truth?” Deku challenged you back. All you could do was poke at your noodles and pout. “Look, I know you really liked him…”

“I loved him…” you corrected. Deku was a little taken aback. The air became uncomfortable for a split second until he cleared his throat to correct himself.

“…loved him. But, at the end of the day, he didn’t treat you right. And more importantly, he didn’t choose you. Why would you waste your tears on a guy like him? Because he gave you good memories? Because he made you feel good? You think there’s not another guy out there that can do those same things?” Deku was making very good points. But you couldn’t believe a single word he was saying.

“What if I can’t find another guy?” you ask softly. Do you really believe you could find a better guy than Bakugou.

“I’ve known Bakugou for a long time. Trust me when I say you can find so many guys that are better than Bakugou.” He tried to reassure you, once again. But once again, doubt filled your mind.

“I can find them, but there’s no guarantee that they’ll like me or even want to be with me.”

“(y/n)… are you kidding me? Any guy would be lucky to be in a relationship with you.”

“Izuku, I’m serious…” you wanted to play it off, because everything he was saying about you wasn’t true. Any guy would be lucky to be with you? You? There was nothing that made you special.

“I am serious.” Deku’s tone changed. It was a matter of fact. Glancing up at him, his brows were slightly furrowed, lips frowning in seriousness, eyes piercing right at you. You had to look back down at your uneaten food to avoid the intense expression. “Do you not know what a catch you are? You’re kind, funny, intelligent, and so pr-… so pretty…” The green-haired hero didn’t mean for that last comment to get out, but since he already let it slip, he had to follow through. But not before a rush of red made it to the middle of his cheeks.

“You can say that about literally anybody. Being kind and smart and decent looking doesn’t mean that people are going to like me.” You counterargued.

“Okay. You want me to be more specific? Every time you walk into a room, the room lights up with how bright you are. You are humble and carry yourself with confidence, but not enough that it’s arrogant or cocky. You are always kind to others and welcome everyone that comes into the group. You listen to others with next level enthusiasm, I don’t even know how you do it. I’ve seen you encourage others when they are down. You’re a good person, (y/n). You make me want to be like you. If that doesn’t get to you, I don’t know what will.” Deku shyly laughs, looking away so you don’t see the blush on his face getting deeper and deeper.

You listened. And it made you think. You couldn’t really deny that those facts are true. However true they may be, you couldn’t help but think… is that enough? But the fact that Deku was able to read you like that, means he was really paying attention to you. Guess that wasn’t a surprise given how attentive he was to others during his school days. You didn’t know what to say. The only response you were able to muster up was scooting closer to him, head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping instinctively around you.

“Thanks…” you muttered into his chest. Deku couldn’t help but sigh and pat your hair, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” He whispered back. He was right. God, was he right. You’ve been so hard on yourself, being so negative, swallowed by your emotions. Having a friend here was definitely a blessing in disguise. After being convinced that you deserve everything that came to you, maybe listening to Deku wasn’t such a bad idea now. And now you think, having a friend by your side wasn’t so bad after all.

Getting back on track was not a walk in the park. You couldn’t just magically get back into your routine with a snap of a finger. There were still days when you didn’t want to get up from your bed. There were days where all you wanted to do was cry. Thankfully, there was a gentle giant there to cradle you in his arms, brushing his hands through your hair while silent tears streak down your cheek. He would let you fall in and out of sleep in his arms. It didn’t matter if his arm would fall asleep. That static feeling he would feel when you finally got off of him? Didn’t stop him from doing it over and over again. And he didn’t dare move his arm when you were sleeping so soundly in his arms.

Izuku Midoriya never got upset when it came to you. He was there to support you, and that’s what he was going to do. He made sure you took care of yourself, that you were eating properly and at least taking care of your hygiene. There was only one instance where he did let his emotions overcome him.

He thought you were making such good progress. You were eating more. You didn’t need to be told to do things around this house. You were out of your bed more often. He thought you were starting to forget about the tragic heartache. So why did he come home to find you frantically packing clothes in a bag.

“(y/n)?” he gently called out, almost carefully. He gently slid off his shoes and approached you but you were too fast and too frantic to pay him any mind.

“Woah, (y/n), what are you doing? Where are you going?” Deku finally stepped in your way. You snapped out of your trance and looked at him with widened, tearful eyes.

“I made a mistake.” You admitted.

“A mistake? What are you talking about?” Deku tried searching your face for any clues about what ‘mistake’ you were addressing and why it had you so panicked. He didn’t expect the next thing to come out of your mouth to cause his heart to drop to his stomach.

“I want him back.” Him? There could only be one person you were talking about.

“…What?” Deku fully stopped in his tracks and his mind went completely blank. His pause allowed you to continue with your packing. You just filled your bag with whatever clothes you could grab, not minding what ended up in there. As long as you had the essentials and the bag was filled, you were ready to go to the airport and fly on the next plane back.

You zipped your clothes-filled bag and tried to bolt out the door, but your sudden quickness helped Deku come out of his trance. He grabbed you by the arm and spun you around.

“Now wait a second, (y/n). Let’s think about this,” he wanted to convince you not to go back to him. He needed to convince you. He didn’t know what happened for you to all of a sudden come to this conclusion, but you weren’t in your right mind.

“Please…” you begged. “I have to go back to him. I want to start over.”

“Start over? But you’ve been doing so well. You were starting to get back to normal!” he had thought.

“Normal?” you grabbed a fist full of your shirt where your aching heart lay. “I feel like I’m breaking apart, Izuku. Ever since that day, I felt this constant emptiness inside of me. Like something’s always missing. I can’t keep living like this. I need him to make me feel whole again. I can’t keep falling apart like this!” you sobbed.

“What about me?” Deku raised his voice. Your sobs halted at his unexpected reaction. “You think I’ve just been here by your side every single day, watching you break because I don’t care? You have this emptiness inside you, well I’m here. I’ve been trying to be that one constant when everything around you is falling apart.” His words panged at your heart. However true that might be, you still couldn’t give up on him. You shook your head and tried to make your way past time towards the door.

“I know. But I can’t give up on him.” Your shoulder pushed past him. But Deku had had enough. He grabbed your arm, gently but firmly, and spun you back around to face him.

“Let’s not forget who gave up on who. He left you for another woman. Why would you want him back after he treated you like trash? You deserve so much more than someone who doesn’t value you.” Deku’s heart pounded with each second that passed. Has he ever been so harsh with his words with you? Never. But he felt like he needed to in order for you to accept reality. And the truth of the matter is, Bakugou didn’t choose you.

“But I don’t know how to let go,” your voice trembled, finally giving up. Deku’s matched trembling voice got as equally quiet.

“Then let me help you. Let me show you that you can live without him. You are strong. You don’t have to go through this alone.” He reminded you. Slowly, you dropped the bag on the floor and surrendered to him.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“You can. And you will. I’ll be here every step of the way. Just… stay.”

You had to try. No matter how hard it was or how much you really didn’t want to or have the strength to, you had to try to get over him. You admit, you can’t act like this forever. Especially since Izuku is trying so hard to help you. The least you could do was try for his sake.

Another weekend you spent wasting away in bed while Deku was typing away on his computer on the desk next to you. Was he playing a game? Was he playing games? Or searching the web? Unclear, but he was busy focusing on that screen. Speaking of screens. You grabbed your phone and finally started to scroll through videos you had missed out. The audio of the videos played out loud and even though Deku couldn’t exactly make out what you were watching, he felt a bit relief that you weren’t aimlessly looking at the ceiling anymore. And instead, looked aimlessly at your phone. Nothing much you had to catch up: some political drama, world news, comedy sketches, fashion advice and… relationship advice. Yuck. You weren’t in the mood for ‘relationship’ advice. Every time one of those videos came on, you hit the ‘not interested’ button.

Ah, this is what you were looking for. Cute videos of animals… and babies… better yet, baby animals! Your favorite creators also posted a lot while you were away, so of course you had to watch those too. By the time you knew it, hours were passing by. But neither one of you would say a word to each other. Both of you were doing your own thing while just basking in each other’s presence. Izuku would sneak a peek at you from time to time, just to see how you were going. Completely absorbed. At least you were distracted and not full in sorrow. That’s progress if he’s ever seen it.

One video in particular was the turning point. You came across one of your favorite content creators and they were imitating Judge Judy so perfectly that you didn’t know a smile had crept on your face. By the end of the video, a small giggle had escaped your lips.

Ba-dump.

A cliché. But his heart beat so loud that it rung in his ears. Deku immediately stopped what he was doing and spun his head towards you with wide eyes. There it was. That smile. Something he hasn’t seen in a hot second. He didn’t think he would see it so early, but he wasn’t complaining. You were so immersed in your phone and you didn’t realize that Deku has shut his laptop closed. You only noticed him when you felt a dip in the bed and Deku was suddenly laying down next to you.

“What’s so funny? Can I watch?” Deku giddily asked. A smile was wide across his face and eyes were bright with amusement. He needed to see what video finally got a smile and laugh out of you. You gladly obliged, scooting over to make more room for him. As Deku got more comfortable on the bed, you decided that you also needed to get in a position where you both could see the screen. Once Deku got situated, you moved his arm over and placed your head on his chest, holding up the phone in front of you both. Deku was flustered to say the least. His hands stayed frozen in the air from when you moved them.

“Really?” you were confused by his actions. “We’ve been cuddling for how long? You should be used to this by now.”

“Yeah, but those times were different…” Deku tried to make an excuse. You frown, a little disappointed by his reaction.

“Oh, well then,” you say, starting to get off him. If he felt uncomfortable, then that’s the last thing you wanted to do. You thought you guys were close enough to be doing these kinds of things without any judgement. You didn’t even know you were crossing any lines. Looks like you were wrong. So you’ll gladly set boundaries if you had to.

But that’s not what Deku was feeling at all. He sensed the change in atmosphere and panicked. You were getting up too fast. He needed to fix the situation. He wrapped his strong arms around you and pulled you back into his chest, firmly resting his arms around your waist with no intention of moving it.

“Change of heart, huh,” you mumbled because it was so hard to talk when your face was squished in between the mounds of his pecs. Blush crept to his cheeks and sweat began to run down his back. Yeah, well… something was up with his heart.

“Just show me the video,” he couldn’t find an excuse so he had to bring it back to why he was originally there in the first place. Thank god you couldn’t hear how fast and how hard his heart was beating under his chest.

That was truly only the start of you getting back to your normal daily routine. You found yourself smiling a little more, laughing a little more. You started getting out of the house more often, going on walks with Deku, going grocery shopping with Deku, cooking with Deku, freshening up your apartment with Deku. Even without the help of your friend, you were able to be by yourself. You wouldn’t be able to be more independent if it weren’t for your trusty headphones. You had to listen to music, a podcast, something or else dark thoughts will start enveloping and you didn’t want to go back in that hole again.

Each day you started to feel a bit better. With music blasting through your headphones, you danced around the apartment doing your chores, while you were cooking, cleaning, going grocery shopping, clothes shopping. Anything you could think of, you were doing it with your music. You were your own concert. To many, it may seem like such a small feat, but this was the one thing that was truly making you feel like you again.

So there you were, happily dancing in your kitchen, creating some deliciously smelling cookies. The smell and taste of a fresh, homemade chocolate chip cookie can truly melt all your troubles away. Maybe you should have done it sooner. You were mixing the ingredients together in a bowl, letting your hips sway to the music that was playing via speaker. Because sometimes you have to let your ears take a rest from having earphones in all day. The music was so loud and you were so into your baking, that you didn’t hear Deku come through the front door. The moment he laid eyes on you, he swore that he was swooning for you all over again like it was the first time.

This was the (y/n) he knew. The fun, care-free woman that captures the attention of every person in the room. Look at you dancing, like no one was watching. You did think no one was watching. He could appreciate your looks and your dancing all day, but he wanted in on the fun as well.

“Oh, this is my jam!” he exclaimed loudly. A small squeal escaped your lips as you spun around, hands covering your mouth and heart beating out of your chest. Your squeal turned into a fit of laughter and also embarrassment when Deku suddenly began to create his own dance moves. Hands all over the place, feet uncoordinated, hips not even swaying to the beat of the song, he looked down right silly. But you couldn’t stop smiling nonetheless.

“Stop! You’re so embarrassing!” you laughed, trying to cover your eyes but peeked through a few fingers to see him still doing the same thing. Only, he was getting closer and closer to you.

“How can I stop when you’re playing my favorite song?” he shimmied his way over to you. What made it worse was that he was trying to sing along with the lyrics. But Deku was never good at memorizing lyrics, so he was always a beat too late when it came to the words.

“Fine, I’ll change the song,” you couldn’t bare the sight any longer. You grabbed your phone with full intent on changing the song but Izuku was faster. He almost grabbed your phone out of your hands but you moved your body in a way where it blocked him, outreaching your hand even more to get the phone away from him.

“It’s my phone!” you playfully yelled.

“And it’s my song!” he argued back. Deku being the big, oversized hero that he was, you were already no match for him. He easily grabbed your phone and replayed the song from the start. He muttered a small ‘yes’ as his form of victory.

“That’s not fair!” you began to argue. How could it have been fair when the size comparison between you two were just out of this world? You went to face him but stumbled your words when you realized how close Deku was. You were pressed against the counter, his body flushed against yours, his broad chest right in your face. He was so close that the smell on his cologne caught on his shirt wafted through your nose. And come to think of it, has he always been his muscular before? You guess you never noticed how toned and in shape your green-haired friend was.

“Totally fair! I was killing it with my super stylish moves and you cut it off!” he joked back, but you weren’t quite responding. Weird, you’d have a little banter by now. He looked down to see your face flushed with embarrassment and that’s when he realized how close he was to you. Was it his turn to get embarrassed now? He removed himself off you and cleared this throat.

“It smells good! Cookies?” he changed the subject.

“Oh! Uh, yeah! I made a small batch earlier to test it out, wanna try?” you hurriedly said. You picked up a small cookie and shoved it down Deku’s throat without so much as a warning.

“Mmm,” he hummed in satisfaction. “Now that’s a good cookie.”

That was such a Deku thing to do: always praise you, no matter how big or how small. How could one person have so much positivity, so much happiness? After all the negative energy you put out and put him through, none of it rubbed off on him. Surely, he has his down days too.

“You’re so good to me,” you suddenly turned serious.

“Because you’re a good person.” Izuku brushed some hair out of your face and gently cupped your cheeks. “Look at you. You are doing so well.”

“Because of you.” You admit.

“No. You did that all by yourself.” Deku corrected.

“You did help.”

“I did help,” Deku admit a little bit, “but it was truly all you. You had the strength to pull yourself back together. And you are so cool and strong for that.” You admit, you couldn’t have gotten so far and where you are today if it wasn’t for Izuku by your side. Sure, you did most of the heavy lifting and you had to do all this yourself, but Izuku was your rock through it all. He was the backbone of every step of the way.

“Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? For what?” his voice got incredibly soft.

“Everything. How I worried you, and yelled at you and said mean things to you even though all you were doing was trying to cheer me up. How I treated you. And for how I treated myself.”

“Hey, nobody’s perfect, right? All we can do is aim to be a better person for ourselves, no one else. You’re doing just that.” He ruffled the side of your hair.

“You forgive me right?” you broke away from his grasp and embraced him in a hug. Deku chuckled and hugged you right back.

“Of course I forgive you, silly.”

“Thanks… now can you help me make the rest of these cookies?”

And ever since that moment, the moment where you decided to forgive yourself is the moment where you finally accepted that the relationship is over. And that you can’t do anything about it. Not in a pitiful way, but more of a way that it couldn’t be helped. The only way forward is to accept the fact that it happened and move on. Not to dwell in the past. There was nothing more you could have done. Well, you could have not acted the way that you acted, but it was a learning process in the making. It’s time to learn from your mistakes and try to not let it happen again. Or at least, try to manage it better.

Soon were the days where there were no more tears. You didn’t need constant music to drown out your thoughts. The heavy weight on your chest vanished in thin air. Your smile finally returned. One that would come naturally and never forced. You found yourself making more friends and going out to more events. Your eyes turn into crescents every time you laugh. You laugh as if there’s not a care in the world. And every time Deku got a glimpse of that gorgeous, addictive laugh, it was music to his ears. He couldn’t name a better sight to behold.

Now it was no secret that Izuku Midoriya was head over heels for you. How could he not? You guys were inseparable; always going to events together, going out to eat, going to the movies. You guys were each other’s ‘dates’ when the occasion arose. Hell, you were basically roommates because he would never go home. One might argue that you were together, just no labels. But you, on the other hand, were completely oblivious to Deku’s feelings and everyone’s feelings towards the two of you. You saw nothing wrong with how you two were acting. Yes, you were close. Yes, you cuddled here and there. Yes, he was your rock. Yes, he was very attentive and caring and charming and funny and goofy and strong and cute…

But you’ve always acted like this towards each other! Ever since the beginning so what makes it different now?

“It’s because he ~loves~ you,” your friend teased in a sing-song like way. She had come over to help you figure out what this whole situation is. Her response just made you roll your eyes at her unbelievably ridiculous claim.

“I don’t know how you guys could say that!”

“I don’t know how you CAN’T see it!” she retaliated.

“What’s there to see? This is normal behavior! Just because you aren’t as close with your guy friends doesn’t make our relationship any different.” You pointed out.

“(y/n)… he treats you like a queen. You know, every time we go to the bar, he stares down every guy who looks your way. He’s always behind you so you don’t get pushed. He holds your drink for you whenever we go to the bathroom. He buys your drinks! Tell me when the last time you bought your own drink at the club? He is so head over heels for you!” your friend kept pushing examples in your face, but… that was normal right? Don’t all male friends act protective over their female friends at clubs? You had thought that was normal behavior. Because why would anyone want to see their friend being pushed and uncomfortable at the club when all you’re trying to do is have fun?

“He’s not…” you kept denying.

“You know what? This is lowkey making me mad. He is. You just have to accept it. You don’t have to do anything! But just acknowledge that he likes you.”

“He’s just a good person! He’s kind to everyone!”

“He is. But does he drop everything: his career, his family, his friends, to be by everyone’s side? Does he stay with us until the crack of dawn when we’re crying over our ex? Does he smile at us the way he smiles at you? With all the love and care in the world as if you were a precious artifact? NO! There’s a difference between being nice and… that.”

“Okay. You say he likes me. Have you heard it come from his lips?” you challenged. If Izuku hasn’t personally said it, then there was no need to make assumptions.

“Well, no…” your friend couldn’t defend herself there. See? Why should you believe anything if Izuku didn’t say it himself.

“Then what if you’re wrong? What happens if I believe that he likes me, I make a move and confess, and it turns out, he never liked me at all?” a slight pause.

“Oh so you like him?” your friend raised a curious yet playful brow.

“Well I wouldn’t mind being in a relationship with him… but…” god, you can’t believe you were gonna say this.

“But…?”

“I’m just afraid.” You confess.

“Of what?”

“Just what if he doesn’t feel the same? Or worse – he does, but I’m just rebounding? He doesn’t deserve that, no matter how I feel.” No matter how you think about it, it just didn’t seem right to be with Deku. Him and your ex were friends. Doesn’t seem right that your next relationship is with your ex’s friend. Moreover, to everyone else, it’s going to look like a rebound relationship. Deku was with you through everything, but that doesn’t mean your feelings for Bakugou are totally over with. You could be getting together with Deku just to get over your feelings for Bakugou. And that wouldn’t be very honest of you. Even if it wasn’t true, that’s how the relationship would look like to outsiders perspectives.

“Oof, that is a tough one… But let me ask you this: are you happy when you’re around him?” she asked you.

“Immensely. He makes me laugh. He makes me feel safe, like I can finally be myself and breathe again.” You tried to stop the smile that was forming on your lips, but every time you thought about him or how he makes you feel, you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Then I think it’s time that you talk to him about it. Tell him how you feel. Be really honest about everything on your mind and in your heart. If he’s the right person for you, then he’ll understand. And you’ll be able to work things out.”

Easier said than done.

When the situation finally presented itself, your nerves were off the charts.

“Izuku… Can I… ask you something?” you ask nervously. The green-haired hero was sitting on the bed next to you, was tightening the screws of his glasses. He was being so nonchalant, completely oblivious to the fact that you couldn’t stop fidgeting with your fingers. Were you really going to ask? Was this the best time? The best place?

“Of course, what’s on your mind?” he asked, not looking up from his handywork.

“I overheard something but I didn’t know if it was true and I wanted to ask you just to make sure…”

“Oh, gossiping were we? With who?” now he sounded a little bit more interested.

“One of the girls.” You were being so vague.

“Yeah? And what did she say?”

“That you liked me.” Silence. The hand that was busy with the screwdriver had suddenly froze in thin air and he refused to look at you. Fuck, you knew this wasn’t a good idea. The air between the two of you became thick, like you couldn’t swallow. Cold sweat began to run down your back and you wanted to run and hide and forget that this conversation had ever happened. But then.

“Of course I like you.” Either he was avoiding the conversation or he wasn’t getting what you were trying to hint at. Sure, you knew he liked you as a friend. But that really wasn’t the question you were asking. You had to pry to get a real answer.

“Well yeah, but like, do you like like me? More than a friend? Because everyone is convinced that you like like me and that I’m the only one who doesn’t see it.” Deku smirked, a small laugh escaped his lips as he continued to tighten his glasses.

“I thought I was hiding it better than that. But yes, I do like like you. I’ve liked you for a long time.” He confessed. Oh. He actually… no way. Is this real? Was he lying? Is this a joke? Does he really like you? So all your friends could see it. How long did they know? And why would he like you? He saw how much of a mess you were, how hung up you were about your ex. Why would he fall for you? And what did he mean when he said he liked you for a long time? What does that mean? Since when? There were so many questions yet you couldn’t ask a single one. You were just in shock. But you hadn’t realized you’d been quiet for a long time. And then Deku started to become nervous.

“Does knowing that make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“No!” you exclaimed, a little too loudly, putting your arms up in defense. Deku subtly blew out a sigh of relief. “But, where do we go from here?”

“We don’t have to do anything. Just because I like you doesn’t mean the relationship that we have now has to change. Unless, you want it to change? How do you feel knowing that I like you?” Deku was looking at you a little hopeful. How did you feel? You could only tell him honestly from your heart.

“I like it.” You say and you stared straight into his eyes, never breaking eye contact. No matter how heated your cheeks got, you wanted him to know that you meant what you said.

“You like it?” he questioned as if he couldn’t believe it. Deku nodded his head in understanding, looking away from you. He smiled to himself then looks back at you, head tilted with the most flirtatious eyes. “Then you like me, too?” God, how could he look at you like that?

“Yeah…” you said shyly, having to look away from his intense gaze.

“Then what do you want to do?” he asks, gently taking your hand in his.

“I don’t know. Because I don’t want you to think I’m using you as a rebound or that I’m rushing into something because I’m lonely.” You felt too guilty. You couldn’t look him in the face anymore, ashamed that he was thinking exactly what you were afraid of. So you looked down at your fingers intertwined, playing with the tips of his fingers.

“Well I don’t think that, first of all,” he interjected.

“If we were to date, I want my feelings for you to be real. And genuine. And so, I guess what I’m saying is, I don’t know if I’m ready right now but I’d like to try.”

“(y/n), I don’t want you rushing into anything if you’re not 100%.” Deku reaches over with his other hand and tucks the side of your hair behind your ear. “And if that means I’ll have to wait, then I’ll wait for you for another 100 years until you’re ready. If you need time to sort out your feelings, I’ll wait. If you find that you don’t want to be in a relationship, that’s fine with me. All I want is your happiness, with or without me. No pressure, no expectations. Just when you’re ready, you let me know.” And with that ladies and gentlemen, you couldn’t ask for a better response.

“You’re such a good guy.” You say with such fondness in your voice.

“Thank my mom.” He cracked a joke. Oh, he still has room for jokes. He turned the serious, almost awkward atmosphere into something light and playful, which you were grateful for. He knew exactly when and how to make you feel better. But you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him, bumping his shoulder playfully as you laughed it off. Deku laughed with you. But while you looked away to laugh, he never took his eyes off you, soft and unwavering, as if you were the most captivating thing in the world.

You took a deep, shaky breath. The nerves were hitting your stomach once again and you felt sick to the point where you wanted to throw up and pass out. You can’t believe you were in this position again. You thought you would never come to one of these again. You thought you would never see these people again. But here you were, supporting your boyfriend on one of his biggest nights. Deku tried to persuade you to stay home. He had told you that knowing that you supported him behind the scenes was enough. Coming to these parties didn’t mean anything. He almost declined the invitation to this party to make you feel more comfortable but you couldn’t let him do that. This party was celebrating another year of him becoming the new symbol of peace, the number one hero. Sure, its been multiple years in a row for him, but nevertheless, there was still a party to commemorate his success. You were going to be the supporting girlfriend that you were, even if that means you’d have to run into him.

You know he’s inside. He didn’t go to many events but with important ones like these, he had to show his face. You didn’t know how to feel in this moment. Should you be nervous to show your face to this group of people again? Should you be ashamed to be arm in arm with your ex’s friend? Should you feel anxious to see the ex who threw you away to be with his ex again? Maybe it should be a mix of all of these. You just knew that your nerves were on edge and you just can’t seem to calm yourself down after going through every possible scenario in your head. Would there be a big commotion? Would a fight break out? Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe if he is there and you did see him, maybe he’ll act like he doesn’t even know you. Would that make you feel relieved? Would that hurt your feelings? Would-

Deku leaned in so that his face was right in front of yours. The proximity of his face snapped you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized that you were being so quiet next to him. And Deku knows that when you’re too quiet, you were overthinking.

He starts to lean in closer as if he was going to kiss you. So you closed your eyes, preparing for your boyfriend’s lips to meet yours. But it never came. Instead, he snickers.

“Waiting for something?” he teased. You rolled your eyes and lightly push him away.

“Not anymore,” you say with a pout. Deku couldn’t help but love this side of you. He3 knew you were disappointed and trust, he wanted to kiss you just as badly, but seeing your cute, pouty lips was a sight he couldn’t resist seeing.

“Come here,” Deku pulled you in before you could escape and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. The kiss was powerful and steady yet gentle and full of emotion. Like he wasn’t in a rush to go anymore and wanted to take his time showing you how he truly felt. You felt everything he was trying to convey within the kiss. Love, pride, affection, encouragement, reassurance. You were beginning to enjoy the kiss, but felt disappointment when he pulled away what felt like was too quick.

“We can leave whenever you want, m’kay?” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“Okay. Promise?” you whisper back, comforted by any sort of touch of his.

“When have I ever broken my promise?” Deku cheekily said. “Now, (y/n) is what?”

“Are we really doing this?” you asked, embarrassed. You can’t believe he was making you do that here, of all places. But Izuku wasn’t listening or moving until you finished what he wanted you to say. He leaned his ear closer to you because he wanted to make sure he could hear all the important things coming out of your mouth.

“…strong…” you mumbled, embarrassed out of your mind. You hated this self-confidence bit as you don’t believe in the words you said. But Deku insisted that this exercise would help you see the true you.

“And?” he wanted you to continue. You blushed a deep red.

“And confident.”

“And?”

“And cool.”

“Aaaand?”

“Beautiful.”

“Damn right you are,” he confirmed before giving you a quick peck. “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Fortunately, Bakugou was nowhere in sight from the moment you had entered the venue. That gave you a little breather and one less thing to worry about. The obstacle you had to pass now were all the stares that you were getting. As you passed each guest, being hyper aware of your surroundings, you could not ignore the whispers being spread around the venue hall. Was it because you were with the number one hero or was it because you were with the number one hero?

The first hour went by okay. You still weren’t completely relaxed or comfortable with the crowd you were being introduced to. You timidly introduced yourself and tried to just listen in on the conversations being held while Deku was doing all the talking. From time to time, he would squeeze your hand to let you know that while it may look like all his attention was on the company present, he was still thinking about your well-being. You were so distracted by meeting to many people, that you hadn’t realized that Bakugou wasn’t on your mind and you didn’t even question why you hadn’t bumped into him at all. Maybe you were lucky and he wasn’t going to show up, you thought… what was until…

It was like the red sea was parting. You were by Deku’s side, immersed into a conversation that you really had no intention in partaking and just as you decided to glance around, that was when the sea of people split down the middle, revealing a familiar blonde that had your heart clenching and breath caught in your throat.

Bakugou didn’t know what made him turn to the side. Intuition? Fate? Destiny? Love? When he saw you, he almost didn’t recognize that it was you. Because there was no way that you were just going to appear in front of him again after all these years. But it was you. There you were. Staring right back at him with wide eyes. There were times when he thought he had saw you randomly in the street, only for it to be a stranger. There was never a physical reaction. But this time, the pang of his heart was so heavy that there was no doubt in his mind that this was really you. When his mind fully registered that the love that got away was staring at him, he instantly put his glass on wine down and made his way towards you.

No. No. No.

There was no way he was walking to you right now.

In a panicked state, you had gripped onto Deku’s arm tightly and took a step back. The sudden action caught Deku’s attention instantly. He looked down at where your arms were gripping his dress shirt and then glanced to see your frightened expression. You were staring a something – or somebody – so he followed your gaze to what you so appalled by. When he saw Bakugou powerfully walk in their direction, Deku’s protective mood quickly switched on and he hid you behind him.

“Don’t do this right now,” Deku whispered yelled, walking up to Bakugou with an equally powerful stride to meet him halfway, blocking Bakugou’s path to you. He didn’t want to make a big scene but that might be easier said than done.

“Just let me talk to her,” Bakugou said desperate yet through gritted teeth. He was overcome with emotion, he doesn’t even know which one to show or feel. Anger. Desperation. Longing. He was feeling it all at once.

“You need to calm down first,” Deku warned, stopped Bakugou with a hand to his chest.

“I am calm,” he claimed with clenched teeth, the quite opposite of calm.

“If your goal is to start a scene, then be my guest. But you’re gonna have a hell of a hard time getting past me first. So I suggest you walk away right now,” Deku threatened, turning Bakugou’s energy back on him, his tone firm and final. Bakugou quickly scanned the room and even though the two of them were trying to be as discreet as possible, there were a few eyes and whispers aimed at them already. It didn’t help that those two were the two main characters of the night for the special awards. To cause a fight right here right now would not look good in the press tomorrow. There was going to be another opportunity, he convinced himself. He was going to make sure of it. So he backed down. He grit his teeth in compliance and took a few steps back. He then took another glance at you before retreating back into the sea of guests.

You had been on edge for the rest of the night. You were a fool to think that you weren’t going to run into your ex. It was only a matter of time before you two met again, but for some reason, you weren’t expecting that kind of encounter. Hell, what kind of reaction were you even expecting? You thought he would blow you off, act as if he never knew you. That would have been a blow to your ego but would have probably been the best case scenario. But the fact that he was trying to come up to you? For what reason? He didn’t look like he was going for a friendly greeting either. But for the rest of the night, you were paranoid that he was constantly watching you. You couldn’t help the feeling of a constant pair of eyes on you and that he was always close by. But when you turn your head to take in your surroundings, he was never there. You were all in your head which prevented you from being good company to Deku. Deku wasn’t oblivious to your behavior either. He was probably equally on edge as you, but just could hide it a bit better than you. After all, there were so many cameras and people watching him.

“Need a break? Or should we just go home now?” Deku leaned in to whisper into your ear. He could see how anxious Bakugou’s presence made you. If you weren’t going to speak up, he wanted to give you a chance to choose.

“We can’t go home. You haven’t gotten your award yet,” you argued. As if the hero cared about some dumb award he wins every year.

“You know that doesn’t matter to me. We can leave right now if you want.”

“Can we leave right after you get your award then?” you compromised.

“Deal.” Deku promised.

“I think I need to take a breather though. I’m gonna go to the restroom,” you inform him. Yeah, a breather is what you need, to calm your mind.

“Let me come with you,” he insisted, already putting a protective hand on your back to guide you to the restroom. But you put a hand up to stop him.

“I can go by myself. Wait for me here?”

“I’ll be right here. Call me if you need anything,” and with that, he sends you away with a quick peck on the cheek.

God, why was it so hard to find the restroom? The place was too huge not to have signs pointing where the ladies room was. You were sure there were some closer, but you got so lost that you ended up in the restroom farthest from the event hall. No problem. This was probably better anyway. The farther you were, the less people, which means you could finally relax and clear your mind.

You stood over the sink as you allowed the water to run its course. The sound of running water helped you organize your thoughts a bit better. So, Bakugou, your ex who chose another woman over you, is here. From what you saw, Uraraka was not by his side. But maybe you just didn’t see her. He saw you and wanted to come up to you. Had your boyfriend not stopped him, what would he have said to you? What would you have said to him? Would you react the same way regardless if he was angry at you or if he just wanted to say hi? You need to come up with a plan in case he really does try to approach you again. All you have to say is that you’re happy now and that you’ve moved on. Perfect. There’s no need for further explanation. You’re sure Bakugou doesn’t care about the details nor will he ask about how you were after the breakup anyway. Okay. You got this. You turned the faucet off, gathered your belongings and prepared yourself to go back out there and face your fears. But when you went to open the bathroom door, it was already opening itself so you made room for the next person to come in. Only, that person blocked you in and wouldn’t let you past.

“Excus- Bakugou?” you exclaimed with widened eyes. Words cannot describe how in shock you were to see your ex walk through that door. Not only was he physically in the way so you couldn’t leave, he locked the bathroom door to really make sure you were both stuck in there.

“(y/n),” he called out to you. But you were not having it.

“You cannot be serious right now,” you mumbled to yourself but loud enough for him to hear it. You grabbed your phone and dialed Deku’s number but Bakugou was quick to grab it from you.

“(y/n), we need to talk,” he insisted. How dare he barge in here and demand things from you.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You stood your ground.

“You have nothing to say? So you’re not even gonna explain why you disappeared on me like that? You deleted every single thing, your number, our pictures together, every single memory of ours… erased. You didn’t even say goodbye and you have nothing to say?” you could tell he was getting angrier and angrier with every word by the way his breath was more rapid, his chest heaving up and down, and the fists on his sides were tightening around themselves.

“What do you want me to say?” you felt like you were going to explode. “How much it hurt to see the love of your life fall out of love with you in front of your very eyes? How it was easier to just disappear than to see you spend another second with her?”

“I never fell out of love with you.” He said with a fact of fact.

“Stop it. You gave up on us.” You had to remind him.

“I was trying to make it work.” He excused. You couldn’t help but scoff.

“How?! She was always in the picture. You never came home on time. You were always messaging her. You always met with her. You never paid attention to me. How were you possibly trying to make it work?!” now it was your turn to get angry. You couldn’t understand where he was coming from. Trying to make your relationship work? No matter how you saw it, no matter how many times you tried to put yourself in his shoes, his actions didn’t make any sense.

“I had to confirm!” he raised his voice. “I had to confirm my feelings for her were over with. I had to make sure. Yes, I was confused but the more I was with her, the more I realized that she was not the one I wanted. It was you. It was you this entire time. It’s still you. Do you know how much, how long I searched for you?” he suddenly dropped a bombshell that you weren’t expecting. Because what do you mean he looked for you?

“You did?” you questioned. Suddenly, your emotions of anger turned into disbelief and your heart began to race.

“Yes. That night… the night you left, I was going to tell you everything. When you gave me that letter to go to the rooftop, I was so happy. But when it wasn’t you there… God, (y/n), I never stopped looking for you.” His voice became soft, almost below a whisper. Had you heard these words a year ago, you might have accepted his words. You might have been so happy that you would jumped straight into his arms and take him back without a moment’s hesitation. And the pull of your heartstrings at his words now… were your emotions being swayed?

Meanwhile, Izuku was scanning every bathroom he could find. You were successful in calling him before Bakugou was able to grab it from you, so he heard your entire conversation together. Izuku was frantic and desperate, gripping the phone in his hand so tightly, any tighter it would shatter completely. His heart was pounding, his mind going a complete blank because… you can’t go back to him.

“Look, I know I messed up. But if you give me another chance, I can make it right again.” Bakugou steadily took your hand in his. The feeling of his calloused fingers in yours made you almost burst into tears. For a long time, all you wanted was to see him, to touch him, to smell him, to hear those words. Now that he was right here, literally in the palm of your hands, you could finally get what you wanted-

BANG BANG BANG!

“(y/n!)” you heard Izuku’s voice yelling out your name from the other side of the door. Your head whipped towards the direction of his voice, snapping you out of your trance.

“No…” you whisper.

“(y/n)?” Bakugou called, but Izuku’s knocks were getting louder and more powerful.

“(Y/N)!” Izuku called out to you once again. He knew you were in there. This bathroom was the only one with the door locked. Even if he couldn’t hear your voice or confirm that it was actually you in there, his gut instinct was telling him that you were. He wiggled the door handle uselessly. When that didn’t work, he tried to slam his body against the door to break it down but it was surprisingly sturdier than he had expected.

“Open the door!” Izuku demanded, not resting as he still continued to break down the door.

“(y/n), please. Give me one more chance,” Bakugou panicked.

“No!” you screamed, ripping your hands out of Bakugou’s grip. “It’s over, Bakugou. It’s been over since the moment you picked her.”

“But I didn’t pick her! I picked you!”

“Well you didn’t show it. I was so tired Bakugou. That entire time, I felt like your second-pick and that you were using me as a placeholder for her. You were always with her. How did you think that made me feel? After I poured my heart out to you, you said you needed time. Well I gave you more than enough time to figure out your feelings and the fact that you were always with her just confirmed to me how you were feeling.”

“Open this door NOW!” Deku screamed again. His shoulder pounded against the door, the door opening slightly but not enough to fully break in. He didn’t want to use his quirk over something like this, but if you guys were being stubborn then he’ll have no choice.

“But, I can make it right. If you give me one more chance, I can-” Bakugou went down to his knees.

“It’s too late.” You tell him.

“If you don’t open this door when I get to three, I’m breaking it down!” Izuku warned.

“Too late? But why does it have to be too late? Why can’t we – I don’t care about the past anymore. I don’t care about her. I don’t care if you’re with stupid Deku. Just tell me that there’s still a chance for us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“ONE!”

“So what now?”

“We have to move on.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“TWO!”

“Bakugou…”

“(y/n), I’m begging you. How can I move on when I’m still in love with you?”

“You can’t say that. It’s too late for that now.”

“THREE!”

The door to the bathroom bursts open, revealing a glowing green Izuku. In the end, he did what he had to do in order to get to you. Izuku was beyond furious. His eyes locked onto Bakugou, blazing and wild with fury. He looked at him with something so dark no one would dare approach him. His breath so ragged and uneven, like he was barely holding himself back and lunging towards the blonde hero.

“You son of a bitch!” Izuku screamed, grabbing Bakugou by the collar, raising his fists so high in the air, ready to give him a piece of his mind. But you grabbed onto Izuku, stopping him just in time before his fist made contact with Bakugou’s face.

“That’s enough,” you say, not having any more energy to fight. “I want to go home now.” Those were the magic words that prevented Izuku from doing anything else. He left out a deep sigh, and regretfully let his arm rest at his side.

“Come on,” Izuku says to you. You let him snake his arm around your waist, escorting you out of the venue and back to the car. But as you pass Bakugou, who was still on his knees, arms limp on his lap, eyes completely glossed over and tired, you momentarily pause to say something only for him to hear.

“Goodbye.” You mutter your last and final goodbye and finally, left with your boyfriend.

The silence after was deafening. Eyes brimmed with tears as the weight of your words settled over him like a crushing blow. He thought back to every memory you had together, every secret you told each other, every kiss you shared. The memories he cherished and thought so often over the years, turned into cold, heartbreaking memories. He let you slip away from him. He thought he finally had you in his gasp again and he was never going to let you go. But…

“Fuck,” he cursed. Lips were turned downwards in an ugly frown. He used his arm to wipe away the tears streaming down his face but it was useless. His tears couldn’t stop anyway.

“FUCK!” he screamed as loud as he could, hoping the burning of his throat could distract from the yearning pain he felt in his chest. But the pain was too much. Bakugou clenched his shirt where his heart was and leaned over, slammed his fists against the tiled floor. He slammed them over and over again, not caring if he was bleeding or not. He felt shattered and broken and alone. The realization was coming to him that this was going to be the last time he was ever going to see you again, not just as the one who got away, but as the one he lost forever.

The silence in the car was suffocating. Izuku had a death grip on the steering wheel while you just wanted to sink into the car seat and disappear. The suffocating silence lingered in the air, almost the entire ride back. Not even the beautiful city lights passing by could distract how thick the air was. But you needed to talk to him. At least say something, anything.

“He told me he still loves me.” You say as if those words didn’t stab Izuku right where it hurt. A momentary beat.

“How do you feel?”

“Confused.” You confess. Izuku gripped the wheel tighter.

“You weren’t supposed to say that.” Izuku’s voice cracked, speaking as if he was about to break down any second.

“I’m trying to be honest with you.” Honesty was the best policy, especially where you were in your relationship right now. But how come those words pierced Izuku’s heart so bad? He finally knows what it’s like to be in your shoes now. His partner has feelings for her ex and can’t seem to get him out of her mind. Is this the pain you were feeling the whole time? Feeling like you’ll never matter and never be first in their eyes? It was a crushing feeling. It made Izuku’s confidence about your relationship fly out the window.

“Aren’t you happy with me?” he asks, biting his lower lip so that the sound of his sobs won’t come out.

“Izuku…” you couldn’t believe that you were hearing. You’ve never seen Izuku act or sound this way. He usually always says what’s on his mind, but he was being completely vulnerable right now with you, not hiding his feelings at all. You grabbed his hand and squeezed with reassurance.

“Even if you feel confused right now, I can make you forget him.” He promised. “I can treat you well. I can make you happy.”

“I know you will.” You had no doubt in your mind that Izuku could fulfil all those promises.

“Then will you stay by my side?”

“Izuku, unlike Bakugou, I know what I want. And that’s to be by your side always.” You reassured him, bringing your clasped hands to your cheek so you nuzzle against his hand. Although Izuku still had some doubts, he trusted everything you said, which made his heart explode with relief. All the emotions he held back finally appeared in the form of fat tears running down his face. And after seeing the aftermath of your breakup with the same situation, he vowed that he was going to do everything in his power to not make the same mistakes.

A/N: WOW! She's finally finished. I hope this was worth the wait and got your closure. Sorry if you felt it was boring but again, this was more for me to vent out my feelings over my breakup as well. So... ya get what ya get I guess right? >< I tagged people who I thought were interested and commented about a part two in part one. Let me know your thoughts in the comments! You know I love reading everyone's opinions (good or bad) and I miss you guys!

Tagged: @gbcssskjb @zaptapbam @dwn-bad @superblyspeedydragon @power-house-fan12 @s-viore @forgetmenotlovee @strawberrie-bunbun

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #bnha bakugou #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou angst #katsuki bakugou x reader #deku x reader #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #deku #mha izuku

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